Writer's Dreams and Stranger Things

The Sand Sifters update

2010-06-24T15:59:00.002-04:00

Well, I've sent the novel off to Tor and to a literary agent. It has been one of the most nerve-wracking processes. Much harder for me than writing the novel was. To sum up a 450 page novel in two paragraphs for the query letter and make an agent want it from only that? Crazy. There were so many submission rules, and ways it needed to be formatted and don't forget the SASE or they won't respond at all(I addressed the darn thing, but forgot to stamp it - luckily I realized before I sent it out and corrected my mistake). I sent it to the two places that wanted not just a query letter, but a synopsis and a few chapters. I feel I have a better chance that way. I know I don't have a fantastic chance either way - it takes an average of 8 years to get a first novel published, 20-50 submissions. But I can't help but feel hopeful after all the work I've put into it. I'm ready for rejection - and will research where I want to send it next and finish up my next novel (which is a stand-alone rather than part of a series).

I'm proud that with all my insecurities, I managed to find some courage inside to face those fears and decide "well, it sure ain't getting published sitting in a drawer. Might as well send it!" Huge step for me and my writing career.

Let's not bother.

2010-05-12T15:16:00.005-04:00

"People with opinions just go around bothering one another" Buddha

I love that quote. It's one of my favorites. It goes to the heart of anger, of hating others, of fear. I am a person of strong opinions who is trying to move into being a person with strong beliefs. I'm not entirely certain of the difference between the two but as I move into belief I'm realizing it is about security with oneself, about confidence that transcends silly arguments, about compassion for others and about acceptance and nonattachment. It's the security of listening to other's opinions and saying "Ah," without being moved to anger because they are not my own. Of not needing or even wanting other's validation and being happy in my own skin. No anger, no envy, no insecurity. Isn't that a wonderful goal?

In that line of thought, I've realized blogging is nothing like me. I have no real interest in throwing opinions at people and I am a private enough person that I don't really believe my every day life is of interest to anyone but myself and a few choice individuals. I thought to blog my spiritual journey, but have found that as I move out of opinion and into belief it has become a private, personal journey. As someone moving through I have no perspective to give and what I am living is deeply private. Maybe someday I will be up farther on the mountain and will be able to look back below at the journey and piece it together for others. But, as I am now at the base - all I can do is look up at the snowy peaks and say "wow is there a long way to go. Better get started."

I am a writer, but a writer of fiction. Of novels. Long fiction, with many plots and characters and chapters which does not translate well to blog. I write for the love of plots, of characters and of manipulating the two. At the end of it, I hope there will be an audience that will love what I've done, but I didn't write it for applause, or validation, which is why I have such a hard time getting myself to send anything out to publishers, once all the writing fun is over. Sure it would really be nice to get some money out of all that work - but now I've got other characters and other plots banging on my brain waiting to get out. So I doubt I'll be blogging on this site much until I actually force myself to send something out and want to update people on where they can buy it and have to do the dreaded self-promotion stuff.

There's a story of a pupil who went to study with a Zen Master. He tried to meditate, but he hated the chores he had to do, the footsteps of the other pupils bothered him, the cars passing by bothered him, he didn't like the food. After a week of this his Master took him to task after a group meditation. "You struggle with everything," the Master told the student "How is it the food bothers you, the sounds bother you, the chores bother you, even your mind bothers you? Doesn't it seem odd? What I want to know is when you hear a car come by, does it really come in and bother you or are you going out to bother it? Who is bothering whom?" And that is the question I would leave you with - when words and deeds supposedly irritate and bother you, do they truly assault you or do you allow yourself to be assaulted by them because of your own insecurity? After all, people with opinions just go around bothering one another.

The Yoga Sutras

2010-03-09T13:54:00.002-05:00

I've started study of the Yoga Sutras. The study guide we are using is by Reverend Jaganath Carrera, and it is comprehensive. The first sixteen Sutras took 52 pages of exposition. In order to really understand and learn, I'm taking notes for about the first time since college. In my mind, the most important concepts of the first 16 involve vritti - or the way the mind makes sense of the things it experiences and how that can cause wrong understanding of the world around us, and the concept of nonattachment. Of those two - having nonattachment defined and fully explained was the most mind opening. I spent most of the night just contemplating the wonder of such a concept and making little asides to my husband.

I have class in about two hours and am excited to begin discussion. As I begin to understand and translate all this into my own experiences I'll post it. About all I was really able to wrestle with was an encompassing definition of nonattachment that in a couple sentences summarized the ten pages of explanation. I want to write more, much more about that later but here it is:

Nonattachment is the ability to relate to objects and people without the veil of our own selfish desires and needs. To fully relate and see people and things as they are, not as they relate to us. To see them without ascribing our need, desire, anger, craving, sadness to them. In many ways it is the opposite of detachment - rather than detaching from the object or person, we make a connection by seeing what it truly is for the first time.

Selfless Action

2010-01-19T17:50:00.004-05:00

Journaling on the Bhagavad Gita

The study group on the Gita just finished. I didn’t join it until about chapter 5, but the classes I attended were fulfilling for me. It was companionable finding others who seem to be on the same path of self reflection and awakening of the spiritual. We used the translation by Eknath Easwaran - with a 60 page introduction to the entire work and a four to six page intro to each chapter. I believe his understanding and insightful comments really eased the transition from western to eastern thought.

One of the core ideals the Gita sets forth is the command to do each action without expectation of reward. "You have the right to the work, but never to the fruit of the work," Krishna tells the main character Arjuna. "Perform work in this world, Arjuna, as a man established within himself - without selfish attachments and alike in success and defeat."

I love Easwaran's explanation of this: "This attitude frees us completely. Whatever comes - success or failure, praise or blame, victory or defeat - we can give it our best with calm unruffled mind. Nothing can shake our courage or break our will; no setback can depress us or make us feel burned out"

This concept of selfless action goes hand in hand with the principle of non-attachment. We practice non-attachment to let go of those things that hold us and the people around us, back. Attachment to results of work, while very western and prized in our society is a failure of non-attachment. Life is a journey, which we have every control over how we act and work during the journey but no control over how or when it ends. We have every right and a duty to our own dharma to do the work we were made to do and which completes us - and the work alone needs to complete us. The results and how others receive and use the results are out of our hands and we must detach ourselves from any thought of reward or acclaim.

I'm finding much of Yoga philosophy speaks to an inner spirituality in me that is thirsting to be understood. And it feels like the philosophy that most meshes with what I believe to be true in the universe. Indeed, much of the Gita has been echoed in Cognitive Therapy, especially the "positive thoughts and actions created positive karma, negative thoughts and actions create negative karma," portions. The particular concept of selfless service, while incredibly difficult to maintain, could be an awakening for me and my writing. So much of my blocks and worries have been about how publishers will receive my work. But writing is my dharma. When I am writing, really writing, there is nothing else on my mind - I feel completed. And the Gita tells me that is enough. It tells me that working my way through query letters and a synopsis will be right work and the results of such right work are unimportant because it is the work that is important. Of course, I am lucky that my livelihood does not depend on getting published. But I know the competitive ugliness of our western society eats at my soul, and breaks down love, kindness and peace between friends and strangers. And that's enough to make me choose a different path.

looking back and ahead.

2010-01-04T16:29:00.001-05:00

Though I know "New Years" is just a construct in our own brains (every day is the start of a new year, after all) and the adoption of a new date to put on our checks - I can't help but be drawn in by the looking back and hooplah. Yeah, I know, I'm a couple days late with this. But heck - this is a start of a new year that will end Jan 4th of next year, so why not?
So, how did things go last year, and what do I want out of this year? Okay, to look at last years goals and how I did: Do more writing - not achieved during most of the year, but finished with a bang with Nanowrimo. Spend less - spent less on fun things, more on health problems. So, I guess I did get my goal - which was to spend less on online retailers. Don't permit people to railroad my emotions - did better, cut off people who constantly wanted to make me as upset and depressed as they were. Practice looking on the bright side - found out it is damned difficult to remain positive when in pain, but Yoga is helping.
Last year was difficult because of health problems, pure and simple. Mine and my pets, I guess you could say. It started out with Bart's destructive urinary problem and Chester's thyroid disease. Then I got another ovarian cyst. Bart became sick again in the spring and there were weeks of pills and pain until I put him to sleep the beginning of June. I'd been having stomach problems all along and this just made them get worse. And the doctors keep saying IBS, though the diagnosis does not fit at all. Fatigue, emotional mood swings, stomach and side pain - all at the worst times. And of course depression - I often felt this year like I just wanted to end everything, sad to say.
Then there was the MIL coming for a month in the middle of a painful period - and the marital problems that and other discourtesies during the year caused. I feel we are still recovering from that. The vacation was difficult because I was so depressed about Bart's death and the MIL coming and because of the health problems that did not allow me to get in as good a shape as I wanted.
Really, the only good I remember at all didn't come until September when we started Yoga. And I became depressed when I pulled my hamstring and couldn't do the vinyasa any more. But the yoga philosophy has been an important one to me. So, 9 months of total shit, three months of moderate good. No wonder 2009 sucked so very much.
What do I want this year?
1. Do more writing. Set lower goals in the winter that I can actually achieve (one page instead of 4 in January). Get that novel edited and sent out. Finish Seeing Shadows, start the second novel and get into Illuminators again.
2. Study more about yoga philosophy. Do more yoga and meditation to understand and really believe that everything I need is right here inside of me; which can help me stop looking to others for approval or affirmation of my worth. Become less attached others and common situations so we can all grow, and so I can accept the deaths of my pets and be able to move on.
3. Practice letting go of anger and irritation as it is happening - recognize the emotions, understand where they are coming from and still stay calm.
4. Become less goal oriented and more "journey" oriented. As stated in the Gita , you have the right to action but not to the fruits of action - you should perform without selfish attachments and be alike in success and defeat. As Gandhi put it "He who is without desire for the result and is yet wholly engrossed in the due fulfillment of the task before him is said to have renounced the fruits of his action."

And all of these are goals, not resolutions. Things to strive towards, not to try to do perfectly from the first. And I will have to put #4 to work in the striving - that striving to do these things with a whole heart is how I should act. If I fail or if I succeed - either way the journey will be worth making.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-22T11:50:00.002-05:00

The cranberry bread is cooling beside the stove. I'm packing presents and the Wii and making certain everything is there as well as giving the house a final cleaning. We leave tomorrow morning for my parent's house which doesn't have internet access - so I will take this time to wish all my dear friends a most Merry and peaceful Christmas!

Letting go. Breathe.

2009-12-17T16:19:00.002-05:00

After the last post I felt very sad for a day, still mourning. But a day after that I enjoyed a movie with a friend and did some shopping and felt peaceful. It is so important to get to the root of pain and sadness and simply acknowledge it. To explore why the sadness is felt, to let myself really feel the pain, mourn the loss, then breathe it out. Otherwise I get caught up in the pain cycle - in pain but not knowing why, so that I just keep hurting myself over and over. But when I recognize the root, when I let myself feel the pain it is at first overwhelming, but the pain passes and there is a kind of peace in letting go. Letting go of holding on to the past. I will always miss my grandparents in some way. But now I can let that pain go, to see those Christmas pasts and love the memories of them without longing so terribly for them to come again.

I am beginning to understand the yogic and Buddhism wisdom of letting go. I could not move on with Christmas and my life, I could not enjoy the Christmas of now, because I was holding on so tightly to the past. When I was able to look inside, acknowledge the pain, I was able to let go of it. This week I feel energized and ready to enjoy what this Christmas brings. The future is not static; it is ever changing. Trying to freeze the present, to mold it into beloved past memories only freezes ourselves, because time ticks onward with alarming variety. We cannot move forward and enjoy the wondrous change going around us if we are so desperately trying to recreate past memories. Trying to hold onto people is even worse; it freezes both them and ourselves. I can't let you change and become a better person if I'm holding you to your past behaviors and forcing you back into patterns of behavior that you may have outgrown. People are as varied and changing as the future - the person who holds too tightly onto her friends ends up friendless or with friends who resent her. Letting go of a friend in the yogic sense means allowing that friend to grow and change and loving dispassionately what she becomes.

Letting go is a good thing for me to understand and practice as a new year approaches and I bemoan that it'll probably be just like the old. Yep, it will be if I can't let go of the old year, if I can't let the past stay there and look with an open heart to the swirling change that is the new one.

What is missing in Christmas.

2009-12-14T01:09:00.001-05:00

I've been wondering why I hate Christmas so much anymore when it used to be the best time. Why I feel so bah-humbugish, when I used to anticipate it for months to come, shopping for just the right gift all year. And I realized, as I lay down tonight after a disappointing weekend trying to sleep - I miss my grandparents terribly. Every holiday after early morning opening presents, we'd go up to my Grandma and Grandpa Niemoeller's house. Grandma would exclaim over us, then we'd hear Grandpa's bellow from the living room. He'd do his best to give me rug burn from his whiskers, then we'd sit down to a huge meal that Grandma cooked up, joined often by the littler cousins. They who would roughhouse with Grandpa, who'd joke around, loving everyone being there. Aunt Nancy would take pictures and stand by rather shyly, showing me new cat things she'd bought, telling me where she'd gone the past couple months. And, after dishes were done, Mom and Grandma would sit at the table with their coffee and talk and talk while the guys watched football. Then we'd go over to Grandma Grant's tiny house, and she would have tons of people there - all the cousins who were about our age, Uncles, Aunts, Great-Uncles, Great-Aunts and family friends. All crammed into a tiny kitchen and living room. Lots of bustle, everyone trying to catch up while Grandma passed around the present of the year - some particular ceramic she'd made and painted for everyone.

That was Christmas - more than presents, more than Christmas trees or cut-out cookies. Thanksgiving and Christmas were sure times that I would actually see my Grandparents as I grew older and I became more and more busy. It's been seven years since we lost Grandma Niemoeller, six since we lost Aunt Nancy, three since we lost Grandpa and just one since we lost Grandma Grant (though the Christmas gathering was lost when she moved to assisted living three years before). Their houses are other people's residences now. And though I try very hard to get into the gathering of my sister's family at my Mom's house - every year I miss my Grandparents terribly. As a non-Christian, Christmas holds no religious meaning for me; it is all about family gathering together. I miss Aunt Nancy's childlike delight, her simple ways of loving us. I miss Grandpa's laugh, his whiskers, his gratitude at having his family around us and his delight at seeing us. I miss Grandma Niemoeller's rough concern and love, the way she offered us her best through her cooking. I miss Grandma Grant's cheerful optimism, her simple wisdom. I miss them enough that when Christmas comes around there's just a huge hole, there's just too much missing. Maybe as the years come and go, the loss will be blunted. It's been three years since Grandpa's death - but only two Christmases. Maybe it'll get easier, more traditions will fill in -or fewer will be expected so Christmas will be less of a huge, silly deal - more of just a nice couple days off of work for Brian. But for now I go through the motions that our society seems to feel we need to go through, all the buying and partying and running around and feel empty inside.

A continuation.

2009-12-01T15:08:00.004-05:00

Well, Nanowrimo is over. The novel is not done. Mr. Ips. has told me I need to keep going, not lose myself in the winter depression to where I don't write at all. Holidays depress me, as do the days getting even shorter. My health issues are ever present - now both knees are in pain for absolutely no reason at all, my hamstring isn't healing, and my gut is full of gas pain, even as the really nasty pains have died down. All that leads to the blahs, receding from society and friends and depression.

So, Mr. Ips. has asked me to at least write one page a day on Seeing Shadows. 250 words. I averaged 2174 words a day during Nano. I've decided to up his request, at least here in December, to 500 words a day - two pages. If I get into it, I can write more. If I just don't have anything at all in me - two pages is bluffable. And it could be I'll sit down feeling uninspired and while in my office at the laptop I'll feel inspired.

I've never been able to write in the winter because of the depression - maybe Mr. Ips. is right, that I've been setting my goals too high. I expect summer quantity out of my winter sludgy brain. Hopefully this will be the year I keep going and finish a novel in the winter.

So, to the top left I have my "write or die" meter which will show my progress - 15,500 words (62 pages) is 500 words a day.

YEEE- HAAAAA!

2009-11-23T16:52:00.002-05:00

After a 5,000 word weekend where I didn't let myself on the internet, even to post word counts to Nanowrimo - I had a 5,000 word day (and I'm still going) to zoom to the finish line and beyond. 50,000 words are TOAST! I started as soon as I got up this morning,thought about the plot the entire time I was in the shower,then took a break to fight with our new neighbors, and then visit nicely with them, then got back to it. Was very lucky the end came in one of the most exciting fight sequences of the novel - when you've go so many pieces coming together like that you can get 5 to ten thousand words in half the time it usually takes.

The novel, as it stands is now up to almost 65,000 words and is a little over half-way done. I hope I can keep some of this momentum going and finish the novel in December and January. With the holidays coming up it will be hard to keep this kind of motivation going, but I intend to try. But for now -YIPEEEE! So glad I did it this year.

20274

2009-11-10T15:58:00.002-05:00

Reached the 20,000 word mark. Still going strong. I was worried once I resolved the "take back the collegium" plot the whole thing would fall apart - but in actuality, the writing just got much easier and I was able to speed through a couple thousand words without hitting "word count" once. I am now two days ahead on the word count, hoping to keep creeping up since I know I won't be able to write at Mom's this weekend or over Thanksgiving - just too much going on and too small a house for everyone to have private space.

8 minutes to spare

2009-11-04T23:57:00.002-05:00

Made my Wednesday word count with 8 minutes to spare - whew. Wasn't feeling well with the IBS making my insides feel like an dwarf had gotten trapped in my stomach and was drilling his way out - and just couldn't get going. But at 10:30 pm I got my butt downstairs (drilling stomach dwarf and all) and plugged out the 1200 words I needed to get up to the day 4 total of 6707.

I also installed an antiglare film on my Macbook and that is helping my eyestrain quite a bit. Do not like the glossy screen - it shows off lovely colors, but the serious reflection problem causes my already dry and taxed eyes to freak even sooner. This is much more restful for them.

4575 on day two.

2009-11-02T15:52:00.003-05:00

4575. I want to get ahead this week, which is usually the most motivated week. I just introduced a new character that I think will add to the fun - a rather crude ferret who betrayed one of the main characters, but is now bonded to him as his familiar. Tomorrow is a busy day with voting and the GI doctor (finally, after three months!!). So I'll hopefully get to 5,000 tonight so I'm not rushed tomorrow. I'm starting to settle into the writing routine now - though I do manage to check the world count about every minute or so to see if I can stop yet1

It is begun!

2009-11-01T01:14:00.002-04:00

We're off and running; it is November 1st and the start of the madness known as Nanowrimo 2009
The goal: 50,000 words on a novel in a month. That's 1,667 words a day, or 7 pages.

Today's start: 1741 words tonight. Am tired from alcohol and party and I think I will do my best to get more words tomorrow during the day. I am going to strive for 2,000 words a day to make up for when I'm out of town and Thanksgiving.

2009-10-21T01:16:00.002-04:00

I've been told I lack self confidence, that it is what I need to stand up to others, to get my work out to publishers, to live the life I want. I've always pictured that as something external, something you get from others, that you were taught to have by getting affirmation growing up, by getting encouragement and praise at the right time. I've been trying to replace that childhood lack with my own affirmations, to build myself up to confidence - but it is a catch 22 as I have no confidence in my own affirmations.

I've been thinking about it in terms of "I am" in terms of everything I need is right here, inside of me already. That yogic imagery seems to work better for me - that what I need is to strip away the false perceptions because what I need is already here. Theres no need to build it up, there's no need to judge it, there's no need to add something because nothing is missing. I'm not missing self confidence - my self is very confidently there, waiting for me to notice it. It is already there if I get quiet, silence the voices, let it out of the cave and into the light. Its so much more peaceful an image to me - and I really like peace.

I've always thought of myself in terms of what I am lacking - self confidence, courage, assertiveness - the list goes on and on and adding all those things to my life seems so hopeless. It's such a relief to believe that I already have everything I need, inside me. Just need work to uncover it. But it's all there, already. It's like you have this piece of wilderness and you need a house because yours has been condemned and you have nowhere else to go, but you have no money and the amount of money it would take seems impossible to earn. Then someone says, "no, wait - there's a nice house in the center of the property, as a matter of fact it is the perfect house for you - you'll have to do a bit of bushwacking to get to it, and some routine maintenance once you get there - but it's there and it'll suit you perfectly no matter how long it takes to get to it." Suddenly you go from the despair of trying to obtain something you can't even see how to get, to the happiness of holding a pruning knife and trying to figure out where to dig in first to get to the home you own.

self improvement is avidya

2009-10-12T13:35:00.003-04:00

I just read something that twisted my little brain in knots. The concept of "self improvement" is considered a form of avidya, a form of unclear perception. In America - self improvement is king, I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t want to be "better" or "get ahead" by self improvement. But in a practice where you are attempting to get to the stripped down core of who you are, self-improvement is an expression of the ego. The want to "improve" yourself is viewed lovingly by yogis, because it is often what leads people to yoga, but is a symptom of clouded perception.

This quote from T.K.V. Desikachar blows my mind "I doubt that there is anyone who really does not want to improve himself, and even if our first step springs from the desire to become better and is therefore rooted in the ego, it is still a right step because it takes us on to the first rung of the yoga ladder. Furthermore we do not stay permanently committed to this initial goal of self- improvement." The goal of bettering ourselves as something to be gotten over.

He speaks of "working on ourselves" and I am trying to shift my perceptions to understand that it is not the same as "bettering" myself - that saying I am bettering myself or improving myself is a false perception of who I am now. If everything I need is right here, inside of myself, than working on myself is digging to find that essential self; it cannot be "bettered" but I can work on sweeping away the false perceptions that keep me from coming to an understanding of that self and keep me at war with the world. It comes from a different place than our western religion. The goal of Christianity is to take our terribly imperfect selves and improve and work on them until they become something passable so we can obtain heaven. The goal of yoga, so far as I understand now, is to take the false assumptions, actions and perceptions and sweep them aside to find the pure self that is already in us so we can find peace with ourselves and the world around us.

Lack of perception

2009-10-12T12:55:00.003-04:00

I'm reading more on the eight-fold tree that is yoga. I'd always thought of yoga as stretching and breathing - and figured that any type of spiritual path that went with it would be Buddhism or Hindu. But asanas (postures) and pranayama (breathing) are just the physical aspects of an eight limbed practice - they are the part of yoga that brings peace to the body so that we can focus on returning to the core of our being. I don’t know of any other religion that brings an understanding of the body and how it affects every day life into a spiritual practice.

Much of what yoga teaches, I've heard before in counseling, psychology, or even other religions. But there is often some sort of twist of thinking that makes my Western brain pause and reconsider. In Christianity you have sin and redemption and other black and white concepts - I am used to life's trials being presented in good or evil, saved or damned. It gives me pause to realize what a harsh religion I was brought up with. Yoga, so far in my reading, does not have the concept of "evil" or "sin." I might encounter it further in my reading - but those two things that to Christians cause ALL problems are not what a follower of yoga believes in. Yoga seems to see problems as internal ways of thinking as opposed to outside influences (like evil).

One of the concepts that is fascinating me is that the stark ideas of "sin" and "evil" seem to be replaced by something I would consider very mild - a lack of perception. T.K.V. Desikachar explains that in yogic terms most of our problems are caused by the way we perceive things. Perceiving situations and ideas incorrectly is what causes misfortune to ourselves and others around us. We deceive ourselves into thinking we know exactly what a situation is and act a certain way but instead are seeing through avidya, incorrect comprehension. Unfortunately, we rarely figure out that we are not seeing things clearly, that we are perceiving through a cloud of old assumptions and habits of thinking that we have accumulated through the years.

What are these habits of clouded thinking (or branches of avidya)?
The first is the ego (or asmita) - which gives us thoughts like "I know I am right," and "I have to be better than that person."
The second expresses itself by making demands (raga) - we want something today because it was pleasant yesterday, not because we really need it. We want things we do not have. We want to keep what could be given away.
The third is the opposite of raga - it is the rejection of things (dvesa). We have a difficult experience and are afraid to do something again so we reject people, thoughts, and settings because we assume they will bring pain. We also reject things that are unfamiliar, fearing they too will be unpleasant.
The fourth branch that clouds perception is fear (abhinivesa). We rarely acknowledge the role of fear in our lives, but it can be found in our everyday life. We fear people will judge us wrongly; we're uncertain when changes occur in our routine; we don't want to grow old - all are expressions of abhinivesa that skew our perceptions.

I know when I go to my yoga class, I have to stop myself when I look at the other students and think "hey, I'm better than her at this" (asmita) or "Julia must think I'm a total goof, I was on the wrong foot" (abhinivesa), or even "I tried that at home and it hurt - I won't do that again" (dvesa). When I manage to sweep away all those false perceptions, I relax, and I walk away from my asana practice feeling peaceful, complete. One of the roles of yoga is to lessen these habits so we can act correctly, with clear perception and clear our minds so that the core of our being (purusa, or that which can see clearly) , the "I am," can shine through.

Finding myself.

2009-10-09T23:07:00.000-04:00

Sunday was a guided meditation at Studio Om. There were two meditations, one seated, guided by a man who was a seminary student. The second was guided by Julia and was done in the savasana (or corpse, lying down) position using colors and the chakras.

The first brought to me the realization that what I needed most in my life was courage. When asked when I was wide open something I wanted above other things I said courage. Courage to live. Courage to face down friends and enemies to live a good life. Courage to do my work with an open heart. Courage.

The second told me that everything I need is right there in me - everything I need I already have, here in my body - I AM. Everything I need to do my writing, everything I need to live my life, everything I need to enjoy life again - it is already here, I just need to reconnect. It was such a shock. It was an opening of myself. I am. The outside forces are not, the expectations are not, the things people wish me to be and wish from me and think that I am - are not. Everything I need is already here, inside me - everything I want is already here, inside me - everything that works for me is already here inside me - look at this light inside me and know that I already am and recognize who and what I am and accept it for who it is. Because in spite of what others wish - I already am and that is something no one can change. Recognize it, namaste - the light in me greets the light in you, the goddess in me greets the goddess in you. The light is already there and I am. My understanding of courage preceded finding that I am. The courage is needed to keep coming back to that understanding, that groundedness and protect it from the people who want to push me off balance, from the people who don't understand that what they are has nothing to do with what I am. You can't shake I am, you can't compete with it, you can't beat it in any way. Any perceived victory over someone who is grounded in "I am" is nonsensical. Because in a stripped down truth - there is no ego to compete against, there is no "self improvement" there is no pettiness, there is no anger, there is no envy. There is love, there is compassion, there is understanding. I am. You are also. Namaste.

I love this song.

2009-04-30T15:34:00.003-04:00

This Todd Snider song gets stuck in my head, but is pretty perfect for describing how I feel about the dem club.

My Rhapsody Playlist

South bound?

2009-03-13T11:23:00.009-04:00

Mr. Ips. and I were talking the other night. The past couple of years I haven't come out of the seasonal depression during the summer for various reasons. Sometimes, when you are coping with deaths and difficulties, three months isn't enough of a letup of the physical, nature-caused depression to let you deal with the mental/emotional problems that have been making it worse. We are beginning to wonder if moving south to give me at least a couple more good months would be sensible at this point. As I told him "I'm turning 38 and over half those years have been depressed ones. I need a better average than that." I always assumed that I would be the sibling who stayed around and took care of our parents as they got older - but the way things are going I think I may need to move to survive at all. It certainly wouldn't be for a few years, as the housing and job situation stabilizes (assuming, of course, that our housing and job situation stays stable!). But I did a little research on places that have national labs that the Mr. would like to work at. And I looked up their ratio of sunny days to cloudy days and compared them to ours. This table shows the city, average days of sun, average partly cloudy days, average cloudy days. Here are the results, and I'm sorry about the wide space - I haven't figured out why my blog is doing that!

CITY	Sun	Partly Cloudy	Cloudy
Cleveland, OH	66	97	202
Akron, OH	68	99	198
Columbus, OH	72	103	190
Oak Ridge, TN	109	98	158
San Francisco	160	100	105
Denver, CO	115	130	120
Albuquerque, NM	167	111	87
Seattle, WA	71	93	201
Koror, PC	4	80	279

So, basically, anywhere but Seattle or Koror is better than here. I can't imagine moving clear out to Albaquerque and so far away from my parents - but it seems the best for the SAD. There is a lab in Livermore, CA by San Francisco that looks promising - also a long way.

UPDATE I mentioned moving south to Mom and she said she's just been waiting for one of us to move south so she can go with us!! She's sick of the dark days in Ohio like we are, and with her parents gone, there's nothing holding her here. I don't know that she'd go really far west - but it made me feel better about moving.

2009-03-02T15:13:00.003-05:00

I posted a couple of days ago about seasonality. I did not post how to manage it. Here are some tips, taken from Winter Blues, that should help SAD, winter blues and seasonality.

Get more light in any safe way you can:

Use your light box/dawn simulator regularly
Keep blinds open in bedroom to catch morning light.
Go outdoors walking/driving when sun is out.
Brighten house with lights
Spend most of your time in the brightest room

Minimize Stress:

Delay what can be delayed.
Say no to new burdens and commitments without guilt.
Don't undertake unnecessary chores.

Exercise

Keep a journal

Do more of what brings you pleasure and less of what does not.

Accept that winter will never feel as good as other seasons, no matter how hard you try to change that fact.

Accept that this is your down time, accept the quiet of this dormant season.

Remember that Spring will come - it will arrive, it always does.

If antidepressive medications work for you, go on them.

If you can - travel to warmer, sunnier climates. But do not expect the respite from SAD to last once you are back home - it rarely continues more than a couple days.

What is SAD

2009-02-27T01:22:00.004-05:00

I heard the comedian Dennis Leary mocking people who claim to have Seasonal Affective Disorder on the Daily Show. He said "There are people saying they have some disease, SAD or something because they're depressed in the winter. I mean c'mon people - it's winter, everyone's depressed!"

Now I know being crass is how Leary makes his living - he was just being questioned by Stewart about his book where he disagrees there's such a thing as autism. But his ignorance has a point - it is trendy to claim to have S.A.D; but very few of the people who claim it actually have it or understand what SAD is. Almost everyone has some degree of seasonality - because of that people cannot seem to understand that SAD is a severe, debilitating mood disorder. And I get tired of ignorant people like Leary claiming that everyone has SAD and mocking it, when what people really have is seasonality.

What SAD is not: Seasonal Affective Disorder is not cabin fever. It is not winter blues. It is not something you get in the dead of winter simply because it is cold and dark out.

One of the astonishing things to emerge from recent research is that most people in northern United States and Europe experience seasonal changes in mood and behavior, also known as seasonality. Norman Rosenthal writes in his ground breaking book Winter Blues. He goes on to add In its most marked form, affecting an estimated 6 percent of the U.S. population, seasonality can cause a great deal of distress and difficulties in functioning both at work and in one's personal life…they are said to be suffering from SAD. Another 14 percent…suffer from a lesser form of seasonality, known as the winter blues.

What's the criteria for SAD?
A marked seasonal cyclical pattern over two or more years: a gradual decline beginning in the fall or late summer, peaking in midwinter, and gradually growing less in the spring is a sign of SAD. Depression that comes on mainly in January/February and leaving with nicer weather is a sign of winter blues.

At least one of these seasonal cycles over the years leading to a major depressive episode requiring professional care.

No clear-cut social or psychological reasons to account for a depression in the winter.

Functioning is impaired to a significant degree: almost complete withdrawal from friends and family, production decreases markedly, marked loss of interest or pleasure, conspicuous changes in energy, sleeping or weight. You have feelings of hopelessness, simple things seem impossibly difficult.

Most people who have SAD developed it in childhood or adolescence.

The book has case studies which are interesting.

It discusses a typical winter blues case "Jeff": his energy would decline each winter. He was less productive in the winter, felt tired even though he was sleeping more, had low energy and difficulty concentrating. When spring came, he bounced back pretty quickly, resuming his normal activities.

The case that interested me most was one that describes me almost perfectly.
Merrill says:

I feel good for only two or three months: May, June, and July. By August my energy level has already begun to slip. I begin to sleep later in the morning, but I can still get to work on time. In September, things are a little worse. My appetite increases, and I begin to crave candy and junk food. By October I begin to withdrawal from friends and I tend to cancel engagements. November marks the onset of real difficulties for me. I become sad and begin to worry about small things that wouldn't bother me at all in the summer… January and February are my worst months. On many days it's all I can do to get into work, and often I don't. Once there, it's very hard to get my work done.
In March and April, my energy begins to come back, and that's a relief, but my thinking is not back to normal, and I continue to feel depressed at times…and then it's late spring and summer and once again I feel myself again: friendly and happy. I can do my work and can be available to the people I care for. But it is so hard to have to cram everything you want to do in three months.

That last really speaks to me - I would say it is impossible to cram everything you want to do in three months, and completely discouraging when you do not manage it. For me, creativity suffers. Winter is one long, frustrating writer's block with self-doubt, despair and self- loathing thrown in. Not only can I not write - I start to believe I will never write again, and that everything I have ever written was not truly writing. If I manage to go out with friends I have difficulty making conversation, and sometimes even following it. Small things like losing at games, getting bad news, feeling ill, all can send me into deep self loathing and despair. Cleaning, cooking, shopping all have multiple things you have to do that feel impossible to manage. I sleep nine to ten hours a day and never feel rested. I wake often in the night and toss and turn until I finally fall asleep about seven am. I value and try to guard my summer against pain and problems because it is terrifying to be depressed in summer and know that much worse is coming. When I was younger I could lose myself in the pleasure of summer and forget that winter is coming. Now the specter of winter hangs over everything I do in the summer - I want to pack things in because I know I will not be able to do them in the winter. Starting out low means that my mood will hit rock-bottom by January and I will have a much more difficult time getting myself to a stable level in the spring. I had a terribly summer this year - and the winter has not been pretty. I don't want to have to go back to the psychologist after having been stable for four years; but may need to if the despair gets worse.

Nightmare on Headley's Mill

2009-01-28T20:58:00.002-05:00

What a nightmare of a day. My back hurts from trying to shovel 4 inches of snow on top of a half inch of ice. The trees creak ominously with each gust of wind as the ice layer bends them almost to touching the power lines. And Chester isn't eating again. Maybe if I go to sleep I'll wake up and spring will have come and there will be no more ice or snow or sick cats.

Book two now in progress - aagh!

2009-01-23T16:59:00.002-05:00

It is begun. I did some outlining of the second book of the Sand Sifter series (say that three times fast) yesterday and was filled with evil glee at the mischances I was going to put my characters through. Oh the reversals of fortune and fate! Oh the angry gods! Oh how fun to make my characters squirm! Pretty excited that I'm getting started in January this time instead of March like I usually do.

Started the prologue today and am filled with panic. I don't know how to write the middle of a series! Yikes, how much info do I fill in - do I assume the readers have forgotten everything about the first book? I suppose I should disperse the info through the first couple of chapters - but what do the readers need the fastest? And how do I know I'll make this one interesting enough for the reader to want to move on to the last of the series? How do I manipulate the characters into doing bad deeds while having my audience still love them? Arrgh! How am I going to make all this work?!

I know, I know, one bird at a time - take it one bird at a time. Maybe I need to reread the Annie Lamott book - I always find it soothing to realize there's another author out there with my brand of crazy. I should clarify - an author with my brand of crazy who is published. It gives me hope that soul-killing doubt and wrenching insecurity won't keep you from being published if you have a little determination.

So I write. And I hope. And if it all sucks at the end - I rewrite. Simple as that - right? Bird by bird I persevere.

Praise addiction

2009-01-17T15:41:00.005-05:00

Others can say or think whatever they want about you, good or bad, but only your thoughts will influence your emotions.

Ouch. Oh, oh this is a tough chapter for me. Just listen to this:

The price you pay for your addiction to praise is extreme vulnerability to others… The moment someone who is important to you expresses disapproval, you will crash painfully like the junkie who can no longer get any of his "stuff." Others will be able to use this vulnerability to manipulate you.

I like this part:

Did it ever occur to you that if someone disapproves of you it might be his or her problem? Disapproval often reflects other people's irrational beliefs… When you tremble in terror because someone dislikes you, you magnify the wisdom and knowledge that person possesses, and you have simultaneously sold yourself short as being unable to make sound judgments about yourself.

Another list:

1. Remember, when people disapprove of you it might be his or her irrational thinking.

2. You need not be destroyed if the criticism is valid. Learn from your mistakes - don't be ashamed of them. They are what make you human.

3. If you goof up don't label yourself a LOSER. Recognize the thousands of times you did right and have a sense of humor about the rare times you did wrong.

4. Other people cannot judge your worth as a human being, only the merit of specific things you do or say.

5. Everyone will judge you differently no matter how well you do or poorly you might behave. Disapproval cannot spread and one rejection cannot lead to a never-ending series of rejections. You will not end up alone because one person rejects you.

6. Disapproval and criticism are uncomfortable - but the discomfort will pass.

7. Disapproval and criticism can upset you only if you "buy into" the accusations being made.

8. Disapproval is rarely permanent.

9. If you are criticizing other people - it doesn't make that person totally bad.

The Anger Game

2009-01-17T14:56:00.005-05:00

I've been reading "Feeling Good" to Mr. Ipsissimus who is trying to get along better with people at work who annoy him. Dr. Burns had an excellent list I had to paraphrase here.

Ten things you should know about anger:

1. The events of this world don't make you angry. Your own "hot thoughts" and distortions create your anger

2. Most of the time your anger will not help you. If you think your angry feelings are especially precious and important, then think of the happiest moment of your life. It is nearly impossible to feel anger and joy at the same time - so ask yourself how many minutes of that memory would you be willing to trade for the sour resentment of anger.

3. The thoughts that generate anger more often than not contain distortions.

4. Ultimately your anger is caused by your belief that someone is acting unfairly or some event is unjust.

5. If look through other's eyes you will realize their actions are not unfair from their point of view. The unfairness in these situations is an illusion that exists only in your mind. If you are willing to let go of the unrealistic notion that your concepts of truth, justice and fairness are shared by everyone, much of your anger will vanish.

6. Other people usually do not feel they deserve your punishment. Therefore your retaliation is unlikely to help you achieve any positive goals. Your rage will function as a self-fulfilling prophecy. Even if you temporarily get what you want the short term gains will be counterbalanced by long term resentment and retaliation from the person you are coercing.

7. A great deal of your anger involves your defense against loss of self esteem when people criticize, disagree with you or fail to behave the way you want them to. That is always inappropriate anger because only your own distorted thoughts can cause loss of self-esteem.

8.Frustration results from unmet expectations that were unrealistic and therefore could never be met. Change your expectations to be realistic and your anger will not manifest.

9. It is childish to insist you have the right to be angry. The question isn't having the right - the question is how will you or the world benefit from your anger?

10. You do not need your anger in order to feel human. When your rid yourself of that sour irritability you will feel greater zest, joy, peace and productivity.

Boy, #7 really hit home for me. I've gotten so angry at candidates when I felt they did not respect my time and so did not respect me. But, really, I wasn't respecting myself - I didn't value myself so I was angry that they did not validate my feelings. There was a need to put boundaries on those jobs - but not a need for anger. #4, #5 & 6 all got the Mr. He's started trying to see the reasoning behind people's decisions and questions. He said he still gets irritated - but then he takes it back to his desk, thinks about it and the anger doesn't linger. It's a huge first step and I'm proud of him. Modifying your behavior comes with awareness of how and why it is bad. He might not be able to control it yet - but it is a huge step forward.

I'm really getting a lot out of Feeling Good this time around. I'd let myself swing down into bad patterns of behavior and I'm feeling happy about correcting them. It is a relief to learn, once agian, that others do not control my feelings. That I'm in control, always, and I can learn how to get rid of those distorted thoughts that leave me at the mercy of others.

Okay: on to more rough stuff - The Approval Addiction chapter!

kittens and bears, oh my

2009-01-16T16:47:00.003-05:00

Can i just say something about kittens? They're just so... damned... cute. They're sitting on your only piece of furniture that survived the Bart infection, shredding it and all you can think is "aaawwww - idn't she cute!" You may have spent the entire day screaming yourself hoarse to get her to stay off the f'ing counter - but then she walks onto your lap. And she's so soft, and cute and cuddly and starts purring. It's the only reason the little monsters survive their first years, folks. Of course, with this weather I'm wearing so much fleece that I'm rather cuddly too. Just watch out for the teeth. Hibernating bears might look cute until you wake 'em and there's so darned many teeth coming at you.

All that said, the sun woke me up a bit, the frigid temps (-15.9 this morning!) kept me in and I did some writing. Not a bad day after all.

Sick pets, sick of winter, sick sick sick!

2009-01-13T22:14:00.002-05:00

Not flowing very well with the tides this week. I am now giving two cats medicine - twice a day for each. In the case of my oldest baby it could be for the rest of his life. So, how do I go on vacations? I have to pill him twice a day for the next three weeks - so no leaving on weekends until that's down to once a day. And I am spending my entire day heating up cat food and baby food to tempt him into eating and wandering through the house saying in a sugary voice "Does the pretty boy want to eat? Come on, it's all nice and warm and stinky" I guess the thyroid swells up painfully when out of control and that's why he isn't eating. And that, combined with winter's worst, is just making me feel like I've reached the armpit of existence. Hope I pop out of this mood quickly - it's an ugly one!

But life certainly could be worse. Shameless told me a friend of a friend was just given three to six weeks to live because a cancer that he wasn't aware of until this past Friday was throughout his body. Can you imagine? Three to six weeks isn't enough time to make up for the things you never made time for in the previous years of your life. It's hardly enough time to say goodbye.

Blog looks

2009-01-04T13:18:00.001-05:00

Did all I could with switching colors on the old blog style, but got a little bored. I don't think this one will last very long though - can't switch around colors or page elements enough for me. I do like to change things a lot!

Ugh

2009-01-03T23:14:00.001-05:00

Just looked in the mirror after a nice relaxing bath. Oh that holiday eating!

Goal #5 - Lose at least five pounds - hopefully more.

Why 2008 sucked

2009-01-03T00:01:00.004-05:00

I think I've pinpointed why 2008 sucked so much for me. Loss of control.

2007 was a bewilderingly painful year for the Mr. and I - the sudden loss of his father, my grandfather within weeks of each other. His mother needing our summer. More deaths in the fall. 2007 seemed to spin our world apart and we needed to be able to retreat and see what the new pieces created.

2008 did not do that. From the beginning our vacation was taken by my family. No asking if this was a good year, no real choice - just you will be at this place, for this amount of time. What we really needed was a 10th year retreat with just the two of us - but between my family and his mother, there were no vacation days left. Free time was take by candidates I could not refuse. Mr. Ips decided to take up bicycling - another feeling of non-control as I worried I could not stop cars from hitting him. My bicycling on various bike paths ended badly as cats and people did shockingly stupid things I could not control and caused pain and damage to me. Then loss of control of my household for six weeks of MIL. And and entire political year of disappointment and frustration with not being able to control other voters (as first a Clinton supporter, then as a local politician supporter). Literally none of my candidates won - I am happy it is Obama rather than McCain - but Hillary was my woman. Then the financial meltdown with the rich again getting richer and the rest of us getting screwed. Then another death. And then the required holidays - I would have skipped even thinking about them if it were not for family obligations.

Some of this loss of control is my own inability to say no - but for much of it, the consequences of saying no were too far-reaching to justify grasping control.

So here we are at 2009. I said last year that 2008 would be my year. It didn't work out that way. But now I know what I need. And even if everything goes to hell in a handbasket - maybe I can at least eek out a few weeks or months where I can control the important aspects of life now that I understand how important it is to me.

New Years Goals

2009-01-01T22:06:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again, isn't it? Time to really think about what was wrong with this past year and set goals for the New Year. I don’t generally do resolutions - it seems so easy to immediately fail at things so absolute and sudden as resolutions. I try to give myself at least a whole year to make a goal and then look back at the end to see if I failed. If I'm really lucky, I won't even remember what last year's goals were and so won't kick myself. Much better, don't you think?

Anyway, looking back at last year I've got lots of goals to make.
1. Do more writing. I swore this last year I would have my novel out to publishers and I would complete the sequel (or write a wholly separate novel). The novel is very close to being edited - but still not there. The sequel hasn't made it out of the planning stages. Why? I permitted myself to be sidetracked, to be taken for granted, to give up precious writing time for nothing. I can't do that again. Just say no, even to friends and family, right? Which brings me to goal number two.

2. Separate other's emotions from my own. Don't permit other people to railroad my emotions. Other's extreme apathy, depression, laziness; their anger and bitterness - I should not have to feel them. I've got enough emotions packed in this little body - I don’t have to be the keeper of anyone else's. I need to set boundaries. Should be fun trying that for six week visits, shouldn't it?

3. Spend less. I want to curb my online spending. Sixty dollars at that website, forty at the other - it does add up. Time to hit "unsubscribe" on the bottom of all those wonderful 50% off sale emails. Urgh, that's a hard one. Mustn't…pass…up…a…bargain. Maybe I'll start a little at a time: first J.Jill, then Gaiam, MacMall, eventually canceling, gulp, Territory Ahead by the end of six months.

4. Practice looking on the bright side. Ugh I hate this one. It's called cognitive therapy, people. Snark and sarcasm can be fun, but it can be a defense mechanism as well. And it can color my thoughts - so that eventually I believe that self-mocking comment I just said. For a while I was doing pretty well at changing my negative thoughts - but it is a constant battle for a depressive. Goal - reread "Feeling Good - the New Mood Therapy" by David Burns. Work through the exercises to remind myself what I need my brain to be doing. If it isn't working - go see Dr. Richardson again. We've had some tough years - 8 family members dead in two years. It's time to reassess, figure out where I am emotionally and make some serious changes.

Is that enough? It's only four - but they're pretty serious, difficult ones. The next step is to put in writing a plan for each of these goals. I've learned in past years - if I don't have a plan, I'm not really serious about that goal and it will not happen.

Happy Holidays

2008-12-22T10:27:00.004-05:00

I only got about half my Christmas cards out this year. So a very Merry Solstice for all my friends and family from Willow and the rest of the crew.

Willow has been enjoying the Christmas decorations. She is very happy to have a tree to climb inside of.

Tagged

2008-11-24T16:18:00.009-05:00

Okay, I've been tagged by Mando to reveal my top seven albums. I asked myself what seven I would absolutely have to replace if all my music were destroyed and this is what I came up with. Reading through it I can see why I no longer hit "all-play" on my I-Pod.

Top 7:
Billy Joel's Greatest Hits - Volume 1 -
Listen to Piano Man and see why I think he is the worlds greatest songwriter. The other songs are icing on a very delicious cake.

Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water - There's a reason everyone knows this album. Love Paul Simon's Graceland as well - but did not upgrade it from tape to CD, which tells me something.

Loreena McKennitt - The Mask and The Mirror - A poet and a siren. The best of her albums.

Eric Clapton - Unplugged - A sucker for Clapton, a sucker for acoustic blues - Clapton doing acoustic fills a need I didn't realize I have.

Eagles - Live. Oh come on, you know deep in your heart the Eagles are king.

Bonnie Raitt Collection. The blueswoman at her folksiest. Love the live stuff, love the older stuff. Adore Angel from Montgomery with John Prine.

Eddie from Ohio - This is Me. Had a hard time deciding between this one and Quick. Julie's emotion on Independence, Indiana decided it.

Mr. Ipsissimus' Top Seven.
Since Mando already tagged all the bloggers I know: I tagged Mr. I. and am posting it here:

So - Peter Gabriel
First album I bought as a CD. Fitting for the "new" medium.

Kind of Blue - Miles Davis
On many such lists, and rightly so. Simple, approachable, or as deep as you want.

Bargainville - Moxy Fruvous
Most of their best a capella hilarity, plus the Gulf War song which aught to seem dated but doesn't.

Moving Pictures - Rush
Perfect 80's rock songs. Especially to a teen-age band geek.

Escape - Journey
Perfect 80's pop songs. Neal Schon's solos are definitive.

Bring on the Night - Sting
Great jazz fused with great pop, better than either alone.

Cake - Brian Kelley
Unaccountably obscure and vastly under-appreciated.

As stated here are the rules of this venture:
THE RULES:

1. Post your list of the seven best albums, the seven bloggers you will tag, a copy of these rules, and a link back to this page.
2. Each person tagged will put a URL to their Blogger Album Project post along with a list of the seven best albums in the comment section HERE.
3. Feel free to post the “I Contributed to the Blogger Album Project” Award Graphic on your sidebar, along with a link back to this page.
4. Post a link back to the blogger who tagged you.

Shadow - even though you aren't a blogger - I'm tagging you!!! Post your seven here!

odd things

2008-11-21T12:04:00.004-05:00

I'd almost forgotten - there was an odd incident at Grandma's calling hours. We'd been there a couple hours and were sitting in the back people watching. A youngish man came in alone - which caught my attention, since we knew all the relatives there, and most of Grandma's friends were in the ancient category. My sister and I watched as he attempted to go up the center aisle, which was blocked by conversing people. He went around the outside, stopped at the pictures we had set up, read the book, looked over the flowers and eventually made his way to the coffin. I felt kinda bad, that this guy was here alone and no one seemed to be greeting him. He turned away from the coffin, wiping his eyes and as he exited, I followed, intending to ask Dad (who was just outside the door to the room, in the hallway) if he knew him.

The man walked out into the hallway, hesitated a moment. He was suddenly greeted by a group of people who DID know him - people who were going to a different room, for "Daisy's" calling hours. He went with them into that room, and I didn't see him emerge.

I told Dad, and everyone he was talking to, what happened and we all got a good laugh. Dad said, "Poor guy, he went up to the casket and thought 'Dear god, they did a terrible job - it doesn't even LOOK like Daisy!' No wonder he was crying."

We considered going over to peer in Daisy's coffin to see if she looked anything like Grandma, but some people felt that it might be bad taste (spoilsports!).

dates

2008-11-15T17:53:00.002-05:00

Doing a bit better now. Looking forward to Shadow coming into town and perhaps having a Polaris spree. I spent a day reflecting on the hurtful things Grandma did when we were growing up (she had her favorites and did not hesitate to let people know it. I was not a favorite). Which was good, because the next day I was able to reflect on all the lovely things and the good things and the beautiful things I loved about her. I'd rather it that way, which leaves me fondly thinking of her, than flipping the order and feeling angry.

Grandma had a very strong personality, but she did love us all, in her own way. But what a life she had! Surviving it must have taken a very strong personality - she was born way out in the hills of Pliny, West Virginia. My Great-Great-Great (and perhaps one more great on that) Grandfather was a surveyor with George Washington in what was then Virginia. As a result he was granted 1005 acres of good, tillable land in what is now West Virginia. My Great-Great Grandfather had three sons - one who went off to fight for the Confederates in the Civil war and never came back. He split the land between his remaining two sons. The one son invested in Confederate money and lost his land. My Great-Grandfather sold his land for money and a lesser property that he thought could be mined for shale. My Great-Grandfather's house burned down with all that money in it and the land wasn't mineable - was barely even tillable. He had 21 children from three wives - 18 of which survived childhood.

My Grandma was the last of the 18 children - born when Great-Grandfather was 67. She had a very poor childhood - and loved school because it was the only time she wasn't being worked hard (and could get away from her viciously nasty father). She and her sister had to row their boat across a river and walk two miles to get the the schoolhouse. Her mother died of a goiter when she was 14, at a time when her father was going blind and only she and her sister were left on the farm to take care of him and do the plowing and planting. When we cleaned out Grandma's room we found a tiny old box labeled "goiter remedy." Inside was a lock of hair and a scrap of brown fabric - obviously from Grandma's mother. She'd kept it all those years. We also found some surprisingly passionate love letters from Grandpa to her - surprising because Grandfather was almost as hard as her father had been. My Dad and Aunt were amazed and touched by the feeling in those letters - a different side of their father than they'd ever seen.

Do we ever really know our parents, until it's too late? My parents are celebrating their 45th anniversary today, and sometimes, seeing how terribly the communicate - I wonder how they ever got together. And stayed together. And somehow still seem to need each other even when I'm not certain they enjoy each other. Oh, well, relationships are mysterious things. Most of the time we don't get letters from the past showing that irresistible side. Most of the time we are left to wonder.

Hard time

2008-11-12T17:06:00.004-05:00

Boy, this death is hard. We have a pretty large extended family and she was the center around which we'd gather. Growing up, the best thing I could imagine was family reunions at Grandma Grant's house in Lakemore. All the cousins would gather and we would play volleyball and feast on the various potluck everyone brought. Christmas was crowded and noisy and fun as we all tried to catch up on each other's lives in just a couple short hours. I don't know that there will ever again be such a gathering of Grants without Grandma around to be the center, the cornerstone of the family.

Luella Grant, May 10, 1915 - November 4, 2008

2008-11-11T17:40:00.004-05:00

This it the eulogy I wrote for Grandma - I read it at her funeral:

A group of us were at Copeland Oaks with Grandma, wandering around the pond, and a woman passing by told me "your Grandma is such a sweet little old lady."

My first thought was an incredulous "Really?!?"

I looked over at the scene the woman saw: Aunt Sharon bent over talking to Grandma who sat on her red scooter. It did seem very sweet, serene - unless you noticed the stubborn set to Grandma's chin, the way it was jutting out slightly. Aunt Sharon was telling her something she didn't agree with and wasn't about to do. Sweet little old lady my foot, I thought. Try offering her a rocking chair to sit in, go on, I'll stand back. The family tried that at her 80th birthday party. She was only moderately polite with her refusal. She was just as irritated about it at her 90th birthday party - mostly because this time with her heart problems she actually had to sit in it - she was more frustrated with her own weak body than with us for offering it.

My brother visited Grandma shortly after she got her red scooter. They went into the hall to go to dinner. "Look at this," she said. She opened the throttle and sped off down the hall. When Chris caught up with her at the elevator she laughed and said proudly "Gee-o, it really picks up speed doesn't it?" That's my Grandma.

And that was probably what Aunt Sharon was scolding her about that day. Earlier she'd almost run over a man in the hall who was going too slow for her. Her doctors' biggest complaint was they couldn't get her to slow down enough to heal. She wasn't about to have people waiting on her hand and foot when she felt she was perfectly capable of doing things herself.

Now, I picture sweet little old ladies sitting on their flowered settees waiting for someone to solve their problems. That wasn't Grandma at all. For Grandma, difficulties were challenges to be faced and you faced them with God at your side and your family at your back. And if family was the difficulty she didn't hesitate to let them know it. Grandma wasn't the type of Christian who said "God will provide," and sat back to wait for that to happen. She felt that God had already provided and if you were too lazy or blind to harvest what he'd given and make it work for you she didn't have much patience. She used her generosity, her love and kindness for the people who truly were in trouble, who truly needed a hand up, rather than those who just didn't appreciate what they had.

And gee-o was she stubborn. Grandma was a woman who knew what she wanted, and knew what needed done - and there was no changing her mind or turning her back. That stubbornness and tenacity got her through the hardships of her youth and losing her mother, through the joys and frustrations of being a wife and mother and especially through the trials of age as her body began to fail her and her mind stayed as sharp as ever. That tenacity helped her adjust to a new home in Copeland Oaks, that stubbornness got her walking again after a broken hip, kept her going through the many bouts of pneumonia that laid her low. Through sheer willpower and love she kept enjoying life even as her body became frailer, her world smaller.

But more than stubbornness, more than tenacity, Grandma had a certain quality that defined her, more than any other. She had that quality called grace. Through the years, through all her hardships she had a beauty and courageousness that she never lost, not even in the worst of times. These past few years her world became more and more constricted - but she never lost that grace. She kept her cheerfulness and optimism even in the most trying illnesses. Though she was hurting and weary and sick - she never turned that pain on her caretakers, she never became bitter or angry. Indeed, she accepted her failing health, in a way, with better grace than those of us who watched her decline. While we were looking for more ways to fix her, she was looking ahead, preparing herself for the next journey of her life with the same optimism she lived this one.

I learned a lot from Grandma, growing up. I learned to be stubborn in doing what's right, tenacious in following my dreams and gracious even in difficult situations, with difficult people. I watched her these past few years and learned more, that you can be dying but still be hopeful for the future; your body can wither and sicken, but you can still remain beautiful; and every stage of life should be greeted with hope and generosity and should end with grace.

Goodbye...

2008-11-04T09:49:00.000-05:00

Goodbye Grandma. I'm going to miss you.

Going out of my mind

2008-11-03T15:53:00.005-05:00

PLEASE LET OBAMA WIN!!!! AAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH - I can't take the stress anymore. We can't survive another four years of Republican rule!!! Why can't people see that?!? They laid off 10% of my husband's department last week - we can't hand the presidency to McCain who spent until September with his head in the sand saying the "Economy is sound." The same day he ended up suspending his campaign to "help" fix the economy he'd said two hours before the economy was doing great.

AARRRGGGHHH - someone knock me out until Wednesday, please. Just let Obama win, c'mon, something has to go our way this time, he just has to win. . .(whimper) please. . .

Here she is

2008-10-30T10:47:00.002-04:00

And here are a couple of better photos of my darling.

How time flies

2008-10-30T10:41:00.004-04:00

I can't believe we've had Willow 2 1/2 months! She's grown so much - compare these two pictures of her attacking me while I stretch:

She must be triple the height and weight she was when we brought her home! I compared her to some kittens at the vets who are three months older than her - she is bigger than they are - not fatter, just taller and longer. Either the kitten food is better at the Ipsissimus household, or she's going to be a big cat.

Do you believe?

2008-10-23T14:23:00.002-04:00

I don't believe in any god, in any afterlife, in miracles. Yet I'm beginning to wonder about the power of mind over body - of the role the mind plays in illness.

A couple of years ago I had vestibulitis. Basically the lip of the vagina is extremely painful at three nerve points. Hard to sit, hard to have sex couldn't wear any type of jeans without pain. They don't know what causes it, or really how to get rid of it. I saw four specialists in three years - after many pills, the last one recommended surgery. As the surgery has been proven to cause more problems than it helped - I decided not to go with it. I decided to be a true Grant and ignore the problem so it would go away. Anytime it hurt (which was most of the time) I told it that it did not hurt. I'd think at it every night "go away, go away!" It gradually went away by the next spring. Hmm, good of it to resolve itself that way, I decided. It was time, so it went away.

This summer I was having a lot of cramping. We found a large cyst on my ovary. The doctor said it would take a while, but it might resolve itself with time. It was a little suspicious, but we'd do another scan and see if it grew in the ten weeks between scans. During that time I spent a few moments every night just thinking at it "go away." It hurt like crazy all September, and I just thought at it "Go Away!" I am a skeptic by nature, but I didn't think it would hurt anything to try. Just had the second scan and my doctor left the message that the problem had resolved itself. Yet she'd told me two months ago that ten weeks wasn't long enough for it to shrink - the test would just make certain it was no longer growing.

So, is it possible that we can resolve health issues where the body is "misbehaving" in minor ways by using the brain to tell it to do right? I don't think curing cancer or diabetes, a virus, or even allergies (where external factors are disrupting the body) this way is possible. But vestibulitis is a case of the nerves misfiring. The cyst was caused by ovulation not quite pulled off correctly.

I am a big fan of cognitive therapy. It has done wonders in my life - change your way of thinking about the world and yourself and you really can change your outlook and become a happier person. I know that works. We know that the brain controls the body functions like breathing and heartbeat and such unconsciously. We also know we can consciously train it to do things it could not before - we can teach our hand to write, our arm to wield a tennis racket. I've always known how to consciously lower my blood pressure and take pleasure in doing this at the doctor's office to see how low I can get it (my record is 104 over 56). Is it possible to focus the brain enough to get it to heal the bad things it is doing to itself? Or was this all just coincidence (which, as a skeptic, I am almost eager to accept) and didn't require me thinking at it at all? Sort of fun to think about. Hopefully my body will behave itself and I won't have to prove my own hypothesis.

A quiet house

2008-09-30T17:34:00.002-04:00

No freakish muttering, no heavy footsteps, no crazy small talk. My house is again mine. Time to get my life back to its regularly scheduled broadcast. Time to shake the depression that's creeping up on me and get some writing and editing done. I'm currently cleaning the house from top to bottom, rather obsessively I suppose. It's something I have to do for myself - I'm not a "smudger", but a good obsessive house cleaning clears the air and makes me feel I'm in charge of my house and destiny. I've got my favorite music playing, little Willow is attacking my broom, and I'm starting to feel a little less under siege.

2008-09-05T00:12:00.000-04:00

I am so sick of this freak show. I finish my book, try to think of something else to do - but with Miss Congeniality sitting on the couch there's nothing appealing. So I put on some music on my ipod - and B. decides he wants to bring the guitar into the living room and "practice." He's trying to learn guitar, you see, and seems to think it is a treat for the rest of us to hear his "efforts." I think he's trying to be his mother's little prodigy again - and it is sickly, sadly working. So I withstand it for a half hour - did I mention he is in the middle of the fucking living room?!? I can't even hide from it in the bedroom, which is right next door. Then he tries to show me that someday these terrible, cut off strummings will be a song and I tell him it'll be a couple more years of practice. He gets a little irritated and I tell him he can always practice downstairs. Or outside like I've been doing with my native American flute.

His mom chimes up "Well I think it sounds really good. I mean, really, it's good. "

Now this was after she waited to get herself dinner until he came home so she could pick out and warm up the leftovers for him to eat. And she gave him a napkin - one of her obsessions, she holds a napkin in her hand, hovering until he needs it, then hands it to him. Then she takes his plate, washes it off and puts in the dishwasher for him. And, when he went downstairs and got his laundry she was all disappointed because "she really wanted to fold it for him."

Remember, this is the woman who can't stir herself to help me clean, who would never help me with my dishes, and half the time can't stir herself to set the table. Sometimes I feel like I don't even exist for her - not as a real person. I'm like an obstacle in her path to her son - an inconveniently placed chair that she keeps having to walk around. She is most happy when she is being "mom" and pretending that Brian is ten again. When he's not around, or when he's busy with something else, she lives in a half-life - almost a dream state. What do you do for a woman like that - with a relationship like that? It embarrasses her own son, but he's as mystified as the rest of us what to do. He just tries to make her happy while she is here and goes along with it. Hence the freak show going on in my living room. Sigh. September 28th can't come soon enough.

more of the same

2008-08-29T00:02:00.002-04:00

Ahh, I about put the MIL in the hospital this afternoon. I was cooking dinner and when the Mr. came home, let him know I was irritated that the table was not set, that I'd have to get out the plates and butter and salad dressing while I was grilling and doing everything else. He grabbed the plates and took them to the table. It almost killed her - as soon as she saw he had to set the table she began having shooting pains that, according to her, "go down her back and neck and into her breasts and down her side." She had to sit down. I guess this is a common problem of hers - though her doctor has never found a cause (perhaps she needs to see a psychologist rather than an MD?).

I first realized her terrible affliction when I saw her clutching her side at the table while I was fetching and carrying and said "What's your problem?"
She said, "I've got this pain."
I said, as I went to get the corn, "I know what you mean!"

I don't think she liked that very much, she made sure Brian knew the details of her illness. As I'd just been ranting to him in the kitchen - she didn't get as much sympathy as she wanted. And all this after I'd had a marvelous day with Shameless and was feeling very relaxed and content.

big bad cat

2008-08-26T19:57:00.001-04:00

It's always nice having help while stretching.

A social experiment

2008-08-26T15:20:00.002-04:00

I am not a nice daughter-in-law this year. I was cleaning pans from last nights dinner and the MIL went outside so she would not have to participate. She sat and stared blankly into space for a while, as my cat Chester, who is tied out on a leash, wrapped himself once around the trunk of the pine tree. He started meowing and I watched with interest to see what the MIL would do. Just as a social experiment - put yourself in her shoes and imagine what you would do.

Here is the correct answer: Stick your foot in the leash and attempt to drag him around the tree. When that doesn't work, look up at the pine tree as though willing it to move. Stare at the cat for a while. When nothing changes in the situation - go directly into the house, do not say a word to your daughter-in-law as you make your way down the stairs and into your bedroom. Close the door. Congratulations - you are now safe from making any decision for the rest of the afternoon.

Now I was a crazy person and picked up the cat and carried him around the tree (as he purred delightedly). Even crazier, I could have unclipped the leash (which the MIL had clipped onto him just ten minutes earlier) and unwrapped it from the tree. Crazy, crazy me. On the other hand - she's down there and I'm up here alone, yeah! Might be a good afternoon after all.

2008-08-25T23:54:00.002-04:00

My MIL seems to have injured her back. She walked around the last part of the evening holding her back and trying to stretch it.

"How did she do it?" one might ask.

It seems that I did it to her - by mopping the kitchen floor. Yes, terrible person I did, me mopping in the other room gave her a back injury. Oh the terrible the things I make her sham, oops, I mean the terrible things I do to her. She was fine early in the evening, sitting on the couch as usual. But then I had a burst of energy and picked up and mopped the kitchen floor. By the time that was done and I was ready to mop the family room downstairs, she was hobbling around the living room clutching her back. Does she honestly think I'm that stupid? By the time B. came home she was grimacing and got the sympathy she wanted - until she went to bed and let him know how her injury occurred. We both wondered what damage I'll do to her when I clean the hardwood floors and dust. It could put her in the hospital.
Sigh, yeah right, if wishes were horses. . .

Sunday

2008-08-11T14:09:00.002-04:00

A sucky Sunday - bloating & cramps and irritation.

Go to pick up prescription the doctor says he called in - nothing at the pharmacy.

Go for a relaxing bike ride on the bike path and a biker coming the opposite direction decides she wants to ride the center of the path, rather than stay on her side. My husband panics and slams on his brakes. I'm right behind him. In my attempts to not slam into him or other bikers I leave flesh on the pavement. First time I've ever screamed curse words at people in a public place before. Start to ride, realize my wheel is crooked, stop to fix it - only to be almost rear ended by another biker behind me.

Finally make it back home, try to take my car out only to realize the metal on metal screech in the front is back and louder than ever.

Sit on the couch, defeated and this is what I get:

Guess it wasn't such a bad day after all.

a sense of scale

2008-08-07T23:31:00.004-04:00

She's itty bitty. Not the greatest picture, but it shows how small she is.

Willow

2008-08-06T23:33:00.003-04:00

Tried lots of names. Some fit so-so, some didn't. Then I said "Willow" and we both said "hmmm." It fit, it was time to stop. Though heaven knows she hasn't - quite the bundle of energy! Our 16-year-old, Chester, lept the gate we have up separating them. He was willing to live and let live until she pounced on his tail - then he spat and smacked her. Poor little thing - she's coming into a household full of grouchy older cats! She consoled herself by climbing up Mr. Ipsissimus and snuffling his ear and chewing his hair.

What's in a name

2008-08-06T08:28:00.002-04:00

Here is the newest member of the family. We decided to get a kitten and I went to the Animal Care Hospital of Reynoldsburg. They put me in a room with seven female kittens. Each more gorgeous than the other. I'd decided between two little tortoiseshells - they seemed more aware of me than the other kittens in the room and were not shy. The vet assistant asked "So who is it going to be" and at that moment this little sweetie flung herself in my arms purring madly and climbing up my shirt. The lady laughed and said "I guess that's decided!" It was probably a good choice - the other kitten had a beautiful little face, but was inexperienced with dogs.

Now we've got to decide on a name. Current contenders: Wren, Lucy, Quark, Monet, Banjo, Pica, Misty, Laurel, Gracie and too many to list. Any votes/ideas?

Dreaming of mountains

2008-07-15T02:01:00.003-04:00

I want to go back to the Smoky Mountains... the rhododendrons should be blooming right now at higher elevations. This was the mountain laurel we saw everywhere in June.

better...

2008-07-14T23:41:00.002-04:00

Things are better. We had a really good weekend. He actually seemed to be trying. We actually went out of the house and did things without him complaining it was too far, too much like going to work. And I've started on home improvements as well - getting the door stained, the chairs painted - little things, but I really need hands on work to keep me in a good mood in the summer. I like a little destruction with breakfast, thank-you very much!

I gave Sandsifters to an editor (a friend of a friend) with much trepidation. She's had many questions and given me back two chapters now; and I think this is going to work out. I read sentences that she's edited and am awed at how much tighter she's made the composition and the structure. And she's asking me questions that make me think, and realize where I need to rewrite for clarity. It feels like a process rather than a criticism - like we are working together to make the story better rather than her picking apart my "baby" while I cringe at the blows. In other words - it has become a process between two professionals. I am surprised to find how much I am enjoying this part of novel writing.

winter in summer

2008-07-09T00:21:00.001-04:00

It feels like winter. It's thundering outside, a warm rain on a stifling night. But inside me it is cold. I told Mr. Ipsi tonight that I feel like we’ve lost the knack of making each other happy. He didn't seem to care, or perhaps simple didn't know how to respond. Once again it was a strange, uncommunicative night where we circled around each other. I could tell he wanted something from me - but not what, and I lacked the energy or motivation to really worm it out of him. I've come to realize that in my marriage, all communication and most decisions are handled by me. If I am unable or unwilling to bear that burden - he will not, or perhaps cannot, fill that need in our marriage. I am now unwilling to accept the burden of making every single decision for our household so he doesn't have to. So nothing is ever decided. And nothing is ever spoken. And we stagnate.

I was angry with him for much of the weekend. We did have some good times - but they usually started out with anger and impatience towards him. I worry that his mother will be the catalyst that ends our marriage. In so many ways she brings out the worst in us. Knowing she is coming - I look at my husband and see all those traits that I hate most about her, inside of him, and I want to take a knife and cut them out of him. I am unwilling to expend the effort to keep us talking, to keep things in harmony, knowing I will have to deal with her for so long. I have an underlying rage, a simmering cauldron that I am trying to keep to myself, that I'm trying to cover so it doesn't boil out into every relationship I have. Sometimes I want to strike out emotionally at him - make him cry; and normally I can't handle seeing anyone I love distressed. I'm really not certain how we are going to get through this. I try to council myself not to make any sudden decisions. If I force her to be a productive, useful, guest she probably won't want to come back. And this spring, when we were celebrating our 10th, I wrote about how happy I was with him and how great our marriage is. Perhaps I will feel that way again, after this nightmare is over.

Sand Sifters 2

2008-06-27T01:15:00.002-04:00

I've been rather worried for some time about the sequel to Sand Sifters. I mean, I know it is a trilogy - but I only have a vague idea about how it will end, and zero idea how it gets there. So I've edited Sand Sifters 1 with the uneasy realization that Mr. Ipsi wants to know what happens next - and I have no clue. Every idea I'd once had for the second was blown away by what happened in the first book.

This dry spell has lasted two years, where I just tried not to think about it. But I worried that my well had run dry before I even got to the second book. So I started a totally new novel in a different world, the Illuminators. Which I'm still excited about, though I am having some major world-building problems.

Then I was out weeding this week when the ideas started flowing. I was thinking about revolutionaries and what sort of person would make a good one, and who would make a poor one. Then I wrote a little sketch of a character talking about why she was not a good revolutionary and admiring someone who was, while the person she spoke to rejected her idea that a good revolutionary could be a good human being. And the second book of Sand Sifters series took form. Now I'm in full-planning mode and my cup it overfloweth with plot lines. And I'm left to wonder - where did it come from? Why didn't these ideas come sooner? What triggered this bounty? The more I write, the more I am baffled by the process that goes on in the brain. It is obvious to me that what I imagine comes out of what I have experienced and what I have learned of humans. But why is it coming together in this instance, when I'd already moved on to something else, rather than the hours I'd spent actually searching for the plot line and looking for answers?

Done

2008-06-23T01:12:00.002-04:00

The Sandsifters first draft edits are done. Now it is time to pass them to a professional for copyediting. I need to start researching agents and publishing houses and thier guidelines. Get a "Writer's Market Guide" so that when the professional editing is done, I will know where and to whom I wish to send it - maybe make a list so I can quickly resend after a rejection.

Also had some ideas for the second novel and wrote 400 words on that. Bringing in some ideas I put forth in the newly added prologue of Sandsifters to incorporate in the second novel.

Other than that - Mr. Ips. told the MIL that he would come down in the Aug. 15-17 vicinity to fetch her since she can't seem to fly by herself and I am still feeling resentful. The creativity I felt on Illuminators has shriveled with the news of her coming and I am trying to regain what little equanimity I possess to help me find my creative center and come back to writing. I wish I were a steadier sort of person with stable emotions. I wonder sometimes what my life would be like if depression didn't rob me of six months a year. Mr. Ips says I might as well wonder what it would be like if I were six foot tall with the shape of a model. I suppose he's right - in a way he has accepted that SAD is as much a part of me as my height and eye color; certainly he's accepted it better than I have. I still sometimes hope maybe I can just kick it or cure it like a habit or a disease. But researchers have found that SAD tends to be more genetic, more of an overall a whole body system environmental reaction than regular depression is - which is why drugs don't tend to work.

My aunt is in from Connecticut this week - I'll probably be heading to the parents in a couple of days. She is one of those really positive, soul-motiviating people who leave you energized after talking with her - so this should be a fun visit.

Just say no

2008-06-15T21:36:00.002-04:00

Easy thing to do right? No. You can say it easily to strangers who have no connection to you, no stake in your life. You can say it to partial strangers, though it gets harder when they pull at your heartstrings with causes. People you work with, not so easy because there is an even greater stake - that of respect and career enhancement. People in the dem party - even harder because you connect fully with their causes, can feel the guilt of someone who isn't doing as much. Friends - good lord is it hard to say no. Why? That bond of love, that need for respect and that feeling of helping someone you feel is worth helping. You've chosen them because they are worth taking that extra step for.

Then you get to family. Siblings - how they have a grip on you! They know just what to say to get the guilty juices churning; or to get the sympathetic tears crying. And, if you are lucky, there is that lifelong bond of love that makes you want them to be happy. And of course we are up to Parents. They raised you. They protected you. They love you for who you are while trying to get you to be the best of who you are. In some cases it was pure, amazed, "I can't believe this wonderful person came out of me" love. If you have siblings - it is a little easier - brother or sister can often take on causes you don't feel qualified or any way up to dealing with. The brother plays tennis with dad while you help with insurance letters. To each his or her own strengths.

Why all this silly contemplation over the hierarchy of saying no? My mother-in-law wants to come up and live with us again during prime Florida hurricane season. And we all know how much I enjoyed that last year. And thus we get to the tangible instead of the theoretical. My husband grew up an only child with a very difficult, controlling father. His ally was his mother. His protector was his mother. The person who loved him and still loves him with all her heart - his mother. His father is dead, his mother has mental health problems and he has no siblings to help carry the load.

I am big on family. I am really very close to mine, though they can drive me crazy when all together in a big group. I know that my parents will (and have) drop everything if I have an emergency. I know that I will and have dropped everything to go help them. Ditto with my siblings. And yes, I know just how lucky I am. And I know that having a close family like mine comes with duty - and accept the duties of love with just a few grudging reservations that I get over and do anyway (like family vacations!).

And there is the conundrum. I believe strongly in family. I believe in taking care of my family. Through marriage, my MIL is my family. I can't stand her.

But she and Mr. Ips. are close. She is his mother and thinks he is a thousand times better than sliced bread. She has no one else.

There is no "NO" in this situation. There is compromise - not for nine weeks, for six or seven weeks. That doesn't mean she will get to sit on her ass the whole time like she did last summer. She will be in the guest room this time, not the master bedroom. And we will all be unhappy. But we will still be a family and I will still respect myself.

We're back

2008-06-08T19:22:00.005-04:00

Hiked and played with nieces. Decided to hike to Alum Cave Bluffs Friday with just Mr. Ips and I. It was 2 1/2 miles up.

But we got there after just an hour, and I thought there must be something better around the corner. I just wasn't tired yet and neither was the Mr. so we kept going. Then we found out there was water to replenish our own if we went all the way to Mt. LeConte (elevation 6,593 ft - third highest peak in the park). So we went another 2 1/2 miles straight up. It was grueling - the gnats and biting flies were out in full force at the top. I have blisters on just about every toe from the 5 mile descent back to the car- but it was worth it!

Believe it or not - there is a lodge up there they bring supplies to on Llamas. No electricity, pit toilets, but very old and weathered and cool. Would love to bunk up there some day!

Vacation

2008-05-29T23:27:00.002-04:00

Did 2,345 words today and this evening on Illuminators. I'd better go to bed early tonight and get on a more normal schedule for the trip next week. Wrote about 6,000 words Wednesday night, but not on anything that will ever be published.

The family vacation is coming: we leave Sunday. I am one part looking forward to it, one part dreading it. You just never know with family gatherings. Ten of us in one cabin down by the Smokey Mountain National Park. My hamstring still hasn't healed fully, so no long hikes for me. And we'll have two rugrats along (my nieces, age 9 & 5) so no huge hikes for any of us, really. Probably for the best. It's supposed to be in the 90s in Townsend, Tn where our cabin is - luckily the cabin is air conditioned. Hopefully it will be cooler in the mountains when we hike.

I am worried. Worried about fighting with siblings, getting my feelings hurt. Worried about ruining this wonderful streak of writing with stress and chaos and anger that lasts months after family confrontations. Maybe things will go well and there won't be any of that. I'm already a little irritated because we didn't get any choice in this vacation - not in the time, the location or in the year. I'd hoped to go somewhere special for our 10th anniversary - but this family vacation takes all the money and vacation time we have budgeted, so it'll have to wait until next year. And I've been to the Smokeys a million times - it would have been nice to go somewhere different for a change. I'm trying not to let all this bother me - just let it go so I can enjoy the time with the nieces. We'll see how that goes, right? At least we have our own car, so Brian and I can get away if we need to(if I need to, that is). Anyway, wish me luck - Tennessee here we come!

step back

2008-05-23T01:18:00.002-04:00

Need to take a step back from Illuminators and do some background work. I've got Tess' history down pat - but I don't have Balin's history and I don't have a good understanding of what exactly their mission is and what the backstory is that Tess is stepping into. I have character history on Cory, Garnet and Jared. But Balin is the most important and I don't have him down at all. Which is good for writing from Tess' POV, since she is trying to understand where she fits. But won't work much longer - which is why I seem stuck at the farm even though I have a lovely plot line to follow for Tess - I don't understand the forces that will push that plot line. Okay Balin, time to reveal your secrets to me!

2008-05-20T03:24:00.000-04:00

1,103 on Illuminators - very tired, going to bed.

2008-05-20T02:00:00.002-04:00

Finished my edits of Sand Sifters. Up to chapter 8 of Mr. Ipsis' edits. I think I really nailed the final two chapters and epilogue. I reread them and thought "damn, I wrote that?" I wanted to know what happened next. Urgh, guess I need to figure that out, don't I? And write it, of course. Whew, got a lot of books in my queue to write! The sequel and final to sandsifters. The Illuminators.

Illuminators is a very different book that Sand Sifters. It is an all-in-one epic fantasy - no trilogy, just stand alone. Things are developing much more slowly, more character driven then plot driven. I really have to get to know my character - someone who does scribe work is a very different creature than I ever could be. They have that nasty "P" word - patience. I'd planned on writing just on that tonight, but the Mr. finished editing another chapter so I edited Sand Sifters instead. Need to get back to my meeting scene between Tess and Cory - I have a feeling this will set hugely important things in motion for the rest of the novel.

taking my measure

2008-05-19T00:56:00.002-04:00

I find I'm comparing myself to other women quite a lot these days. I look at women in the Dem club with successful business and careers or who have retired from fascinating jobs - and I wonder what happened with me. Why have I not joined their ranks? I' m intelligent - how did I become a throw back to the 50s? Other women my age have the excellent excuse, and the amazing proof, of children as their success instead of businesses. In comparison, my messy house and husband seem a pale excuse for lack of success.

I can remember thinking about careers. Just a few months before I married, a client of the print shop I worked with told me she was retiring. She worked for the Waste District, in the recycling and programs division. I'd realized my boss, who was jealous of any woman young and pretty, would never let me be more than a desktop publisher and secretary. The Waste district job was actually a career -with advancement opportunities and a chance to grow. I really liked the Bolivar area, wanted to stay around there. But then Mr. Ips. proposed, and I liked him better. And I moved back to the city I swore four years before I'd never return to. Nothing against Columbus, I just don't like cities. As far as cities go, it is one of the easier ones to live around. And I really hate suburbs. Villages and small towns may have lots of small minds - but they do have minds and a heartbeat and a feel of their own. You lose all that in the white-bread of suburbia. Moving back, there were so many other people more talented, more qualified and more confident than myself for every job available. I was intimidated and frustrated and soon gave up, took a series of annoying small jobs until quitting to write (which, in those first years, I didn't do at all).

I do think though, that women who are successful at my age must have had an overall plan. For all my imaginary flights of fancy, I never could get a picture of myself in any career. Not in college, not even in high school. I could picture flying dragons - but a career? Never. I was a bit bewildered in college - oh sure, I adored it. I adored studying, writing papers, talking with professors. I chose English because I loved the professors and I knew it was something I could get an A in. No, I couldn't imagine what I'd do with it - but I couldn't imagine any other degree either. A serious depression my senior year derailed any confidence I'd gained as the professors' darling and I left college as bewildered about what I was going to do as I went in. Strange to say, if someone had encouraged me in hands-on jobs like woodworking and construction - I'd probably be a happy little craftswoman without a degree. But I think my own parents didn't have a clue what I could be (I felt like a nightingale in a crow's nest) and did not encourage my little scribblings.

I moaned to Mr. Ips tonight "why aren't I a successful woman with a good career?" and he answered "In a couple years, you could be," referring to the novel I'm editing. I'm on a career path without tangible signs of success. The milestones of a career - advancements, raises, promotions - don’t apply, or are unrewarded. I suppose I have been building, the past five years, a career. My milestones: first novel written; Second novel written, trilogy planned; third novel started, second novel in editing. Nothing to shout about, nothing that looks impressive. Just nibbles of success that look like a snail's pace to the outside eye.

2008-05-15T02:01:00.001-04:00

Just 840 words on Illuminators tonight. Stuck on chapter 14 for Sandsifters editing - just not at all happy with the Kadar/Farrah/Ashraf storyline - which is bad as that will be my main one in the second book. To bed for me, as I have a very fun day planned tomorrow as Shadow is visiting and I am psyched to spend time with him!

2008-05-14T02:14:00.002-04:00

Good day on Illuminators. Wrote 2,918 words (about 11 pages)and am almost done with chaper 5. The plot is bumping along nicely. Edited chapter 12 in Sandsifters, but am still awaiting feedback from the Mr. on the chapters.

Good cheerleader, good

2008-05-13T02:18:00.002-04:00

1,308 new writing on Illuminators. Finished editing chapter 9 and did 10 & 11 on Sandsifters.

Was very excited - I added a prologue to Sandsifters and rewrote Chapter One because the Mr. found it confusing and off-putting. I worked quite a bit on that prologue, writing and rewriting as well as chopping and rewriting the first chapter and finally had him read it. He was thrilled and said it was great writing and just what it needed. Even came downstairs to find me after he'd read it because he was so excited. I'd been worried since I'd rewritten it so many times I could no longer tell what was good and bad. Hopefully it will draw readers in and keep them involved. Things are progressing prodigiously. Please, oh please let this good spell last!

Good night

2008-05-12T02:14:00.002-04:00

Worked on simple edits for chapters 6, 7,8, and 9 - need to get the Mr.'s outside opinion on what else to change though. Also finished chapter 3 of Illuminators and started 750 words on chapter 4, all new writing. Got lots of great ideas for Illuminators - the plot has me excited and some twists later on should make excellent writing. I just have to get from here to there. How fun!

Mother's Day was good - My Mom came here because she wanted Minuteman pizza (and to get away, I think). I made a lemon meringue pie from scratch that was well received. Crazy weather with tornado sirens going off and pouring rain. But still nice having visitors here. Spent all day Saturday spring cleaning - went to a very late dinner at PF Changs at Easton. They have almost as good a hot and sour soup as Molly Wu's - yum! And the Mr. got two new computer games at the Apple store. So altogether a good Anniversary weekend that happened to be Mother's Day as well. And the house is scoured, so I can focus on writing and not on cleaning!

I've found Pete Kennedy's lovely acoustic guitar cd "Shearwater" is excellent to write to (not that the Kennedy's aren't usually excellent at anytime, but that is really good for writing). The Mr. has a gig next Saturday in Columbus at some bar - wish him luck!

A decade

2008-05-10T00:46:00.003-04:00

Ten years ago tonight I was curled up with my new husband after a hectic and crazy wedding day and a great reception. I look at him now and wonder how we ever made it through those first crazy years. Oh the insane expectations newlywed's have of each other, the roles we thrust ourselves and our spouses into because they are what we saw all our lives.

Thank god for psychotherapy! Sure I was seeing my shrink for my depression, but he taught me how to change those unhealthy patterns and learn how to really talk about things with my husband. I sometimes laugh when I think of all the times I used to stew about things for months, letting them built to a bursting point before hitting Mr. Ipsis. full force with all the pent up rage. And he would simply slip into silence to punish me when he was angry. We still have our moments, but they are only moments and don't drag into months of misunderstandings anymore. I think we're just now hitting our stride. Here's to forty more years of marital misunderstandings and mischief!

All's well. . .

2008-05-09T02:21:00.003-04:00

1,365 words on Illuminators. I kinda like when the Mr. gets behind on the reviewing, then I get to write on the new novel, which is much more fun.

The J.J. Dinner went shockingly well. We finally got two speakers about 9pm last night, then got the last bio for the program at 4pm today. Ran it off quickly and inserted it in the program and made the dinner on time. The food was okay, the MC was funny. The singer was a hoot and certainly had the right audience for his political songs. Candidates weren't too long winded (poor Dan Dodd is in the middle of the Dann scandal as he has been appointed to research impeachment laws, and he looked tired). And I really enjoyed the guest speakers - the farmland preservation guy kept getting off-topic but was funny about it and knew his stuff. The author kept it short and told tales of McCain he'd found from researching his book. I think it was the best dinner since Coleman spoke our first year. But then I found it refreshing to hear someone other than a career politician speak for once. And the rum I smuggled in relaxed things immensly.

It was a great social event for me: I got to speak to all the people I liked and none of the people I didn't. And I realized just how many people there I really, really enjoy talking to. I like these Democratic social functions. I forget that when I've volunteered too much and am burned out. And I looked freaking hot in my Johnnie Boden dress and Tibbs wasn't around to give me the creeps for looking hot. Mr. Ips sure liked it. I think Shameless was getting pretty tired of it all by the end, but the Mr. and I hung around and socialized a little longer. Yes, you heard that right - me socializing. It happens just once or twice a year, so don't blink or you'll miss it.

Chapter 5 edited

2008-05-08T01:56:00.002-04:00

Mr. Ips. seemed to like this one - not nearly so many changes. But now I'm caught up to where he stopped.

Started writing on Illuminators again. I've been doing research on scribes and illuminated manuscripts and am fascinated with the way writing has changed through the years. The type of pen and the way we hold the pen and make strokes is completely different. Of course, pens were quills back then, that scribes cut themselves. They also made their own ink. Quill pens had to be held perpendicular to the page to get the best ink flow. So they held pens between the tip of their thumb and the top edge of the first two fingers, with the last two curled out of the way. The entire hand moved to make a stroke, rather than just the fingers. The hand never rested on the page, but hovered in midair. Which is why it is nearly impossible for us to reproduce exactly the scripts of medieval times. We no longer have developed the muscles to keep the hand steady and true. I attempted to learn modern calligraphy over the winter, but being a lefty provided more challenge than I wanted to overcome. Which made it obvious to me that my little scribe in Illuminators would have been trained early as a righty, even if she were naturally left-handed. Which meant her painting would probably be done left handed. All sorts of magical potential in that clockwise/counterclockwise sort of reversal.

Chapter 4 edited

2008-05-06T01:40:00.001-04:00

Don't think I'm totally done with that one though. It might need a third and fourth draft to really work well. But for this draft, we'll mark it finished.

Can you hear the whistle blow?

2008-05-06T00:17:00.000-04:00

Can you hear the whistle blow?

That's the sound of the annual Democratic Jefferson-Jackson Dinner chugging this way. The rails it is traveling on are twisted, buckled, just plain warped - yet through sheer tenacity this train is staying on the track. I wouldn't care - but I agreed to help with the program. Which has changed three times in the past 4 days as our first invited keynote speaker (the illustrious Mark Dann) has been asked to resign, our second would put everyone within a mile of the place to sleep, and the third (who is in the same class as the first, but without the proof) has not yet confirmed he'll come. Did I mention the dinner is Thursday evening? You wouldn't think with a pathetic turnout expected the organizer would want much with the program - but so far I have three bios, an extended list of speakers, 65 sponsors, 6 door prize offers, and many many lists of thank-yous. All for a folded 11 x 8.5 sheet of paper. And, really nothing about the program (except the sponsors) has been confirmed. And the only really responsible member of the banquet committee will be out of town as of tomorrow on business. I did mention the dinner is in three days, right? Still plenty of time for a spectacular wreck.

I need a hero

2008-05-01T12:09:00.002-04:00

I read in the Washington Post that Army Spc. Monica Brown received the silver star because she dove into live fire to save three men. Then she was pulled from her troop and sent back to base because she was female and laws prevent females in combat operations.

I read about Spc. Brown in the Post and I felt proud. No, it wasn't me doing the heroics, indeed I think I'd drop to the ground and quiver if someone shot at me. But reading about what she did, saving men's lives, covering them while mortar shells blew over head, helping to carry them to the truck and stabilizing them for evacuation - well I felt a surge. I felt like - if I chose I could do that. And it made me wonder if that is something women have been missing. The male role model varies extremely from person to person - but in any high stress situation, they can picture themselves as warriors. They have GI Joe hanging over their heads, and they, in their heart of hearts, think - I could do that. In the right situation, if I chose. But women have been the face that launched the ship, not the commander of the ship. How do you empower women if there are no powerful role models? Sure, there are leaders - intelligent women who hold high positions. But the human brain is more primitive than that. We look for heroes, not leaders, to force ourselves to be brave. And for thousands of years the female has been told that we are not brave, we don't have any choice, we don't have anyone to look to other than our heroic males. But things are changing. No, I don't want to go into combat. But Spc. Brown makes me want to charge out in front of a bus and save a child. She makes me want to be like her - in that primitive, inner monkey brain that craves a heroic figure to set my path.

I can see why dominant males want to prevent this. Military personnel are asking for change, want to be able to assign female medics to all male troops in combat sites. But the congressmen over them, the old male club, don't want it. Because heroes are dangerous things, hard to control. They make people want to be more than the roles assigned to them. And Republicans (and patriarchal figures, who sadly aren't just Republicans) are all about molds and set roles and knowing the place people want you to be in. But as women learn more about power, as they begin to take their true place in society - this will be harder and harder to control. In the '50s women sci. fi. writers changed their names to get published. Publishers didn't think women heroic fiction would sell. But it has - very briskly and now some of the best of the best in sci. fi. and fantasy are female, as women solve their craving for a heroic role model with the only women who are permitted to be heroic - characters in a future world (or fantasy world) in a place far, far away.

The call of the wild mind

2008-04-30T11:46:00.005-04:00

The call of new writing is irresistible. Wrote 2,500 words on Illuminators last night rather than editing Sand Sifters. Can't help it, it was more fun than trying to figure out how to bring Farrah and Kadar together in a smoother way. Though it was a scene later in the book than I am currently at. I usually don't let myself do that - I find I get less discouraged and have a smoother story if I go from beginning, through the dreaded and impossible middle, to the end without jumping around and writing scenes then piecing them together.

It amazes me how many people have tried writing novels. For that matter, the slush pile on publisher's desks is 9-12 months long of books that have been completed. It is very usual for someone to have a beginning and end, but not a middle - and those people are the ones that always want me to read their stuff. What is the point? Talk to me when you've finished the thing - most people never finish their first novel. Heck, one lady told me she wanted me to read her unfinished novel but would wait until I was done editing mine because "she didn't want to influence me." Kindness personified.

There is a difference in myself, and my writing since I've finished two novels. The first one was through Nanowrimo, so it was done at a hectic pace, and may be pulled apart someday and used as the basis for a longer (and better novel). The second was done more professionally, over 8 months. I can tell now, what ideas will make the cut, what ideas will only last a couple of chapters. I know how to get through middles by creating overarching plots. And I have the confidence to finish what I start without too much fuss or angst. A professional writer once told me "talk to me when you've written a novel from start to finish" and I understand now what she meant. The next step is "talk to me when you've edited and submitted your first novel." But that gives me confidence as well that once I've learned the process it will no longer feel like I'm climbing Everest without an oxygen bottle.

I'm back

2008-04-29T00:10:00.002-04:00

Went to the parents to visit Grandma last Tuesday. Expected to be back Thursday - a quick trip. But Grandma's health is sliding and Mom asked me to go to the doctor with her and Dad because Dad is hard of hearing and often has problems listening to doctor instructions. So that was Friday, early morning. And Saturday I helped Dad write a dispute letter to the insurance company after they refused to pay $8,000 in bills. So I finally came back Sunday, and my schedule is all screwed up. I thought I'd write at Mom's at night, but had to keep getting up early, so my sleep pattern is all messed up. And today was a disaster. Just a disaster. Emotional overload from last week, a house that hadn't been taken care of while I was gone, missing bills and an unsupportive husband. In my world that's a chain reaction that leads to the atomic bomb explosion of rage. Luckily my anger burns hot, but quickly. It was gone by evening with just a dull headache remaining.

And now I read what Mr. Ipsissimus edited on Chapter 4 (I got Chapter 3 done before I left) and I'm feeling like he was a bit harsh at times. Feeling like my perky cheerleader turned into a stone-faced drill sergeant. Maybe this isn't a good night for book editing? Maybe this is a good night for new novel writing? I don't know - I'm in one of my discouraged phases. Guess I just need to jump in again with both feet and slog through it. I'm surprised (and touched) how many people have come out of the woodwork offering to help read and comment. Heck, I barely want to reread and comment on the novel and I wrote it. But the support does keep me slogging through this second draft so people can comment for the third draft. This should be a long, exciting summer!

Chapter One complete

2008-04-18T00:26:00.003-04:00

First rewriting of Chapter One complete. Started on Chapter 2. Just 18 chapters to go...ugh. Ah, well, as Annie Lamott says, bird by bird - just take it bird by bird.

Also started a new design for a crazy candidate, that I kinda like. Ran out of ink before I could print it to see if it looks okay printed as it does on screen. Been resisting doing it - in spite of the fantastic design package I got for my B-Day (thank-you A. and J.!). Got to use Illustrator for the first time in ten years - my how that program has evolved! Hardly even knew where to start. I know what the program can do, but I no longer know how to make it do it. But I've become rather fixated on the rewrite and don't want to be bothered by anything else. Which is good, I suppose.

Also started on the Claritin as I was getting the wheezes from tree pollen and I hate feeling like I'm suffocating. Feel lucky I don't have really bad asthma like my sister does. Thought it would make my dry eye even worse, but my eyes were so sticky and irritated from allergies that it made them feel better! Just never know until you try.

Well, this was a quick break - on to Chapter 2 where my M.C.'s love interest appears. This was a total shock to me when I first wrote it - my M.C. was not going to have a lover. But Ashraf just appeared in the crowd and took over the scene and became an important part of the book. It's those unplanned moments where your unconscious mind takes over an creates things out of your unacknowledged psyche that make writing a novel so cool. And so puzzling.

Back three steps, forward two

2008-04-17T01:07:00.002-04:00

Chapter 1 is on the chopping block. Ruthlessly cut about 2,000 words of set-up at the beginning, then added about 1,500 in the middle and various places. Can't quite grasp how the catapult my MC out of the family surroundings and to her destiny - right now it feels too abrupt. Don't want to add a chapter, though, because the real story is at the Temple. Have to sleep on it I think. The benadryl is fogging my brain (though it is clearing my lungs).

Looking up

2008-04-16T02:22:00.003-04:00

Doing much better mood wise. I think switching to nights for now is a good thing. Finished the prologue last night, did 2,900 words (10 pages) on a different project tonight, and my mood has been amazingly better the past couple days. Allergies have been brutal - but my mood is still pretty high. I think the change in schedule, as well as the feeling I am accomplishing something (finally!) are really lifting me into the spring spirit. Well, it's 2:30 am. I think the well is dry - time to sleep and let it refill.

Finally writing

2008-04-14T12:10:00.004-04:00

Got great feedback from Mr. Ips. on why the beginning of Sand Sifters doesn't work, but haven't been able to roll on it. The ol' imagination's been letting me down, I'm afraid.

I need a change. I've gotten to the point in my life where I know when my happiness isn't looking up, when it is intolerable to sit all afternoon and stare at a blank page, when I spend the entire day working on things but at the end of the day can't figure out what - I need to change my routine. Or my surroundings. Or something. I don't work well in a static environment. I need constant change to keep my brain sharp, to stoke my imagination. The past five years have actually been good for that - new house, new grounds, new friends, new accomplishments. Now things are settling into a routine and I am getting restless for some good change. But I like my house, my grounds and my friends.

Been having problems getting up in the morning. It might be a biorhythm thing. I've had this happen before where 3am feels like 11pm and 11am feels like 7am. Can't seem to roll out of bed until 10 - which makes the routine change a certainty. It's time to become a night owl. Stay up and write after Mr. Ips. goes to bed, and stay up until I'm too tired to do anymore - 2:30-3am. Doing this focuses my mind on simply writing - there is nothing else I can do while the Mr. is sleeping. No weeds to pull at midnight, can't do dishes or clean without making too much noise. Just me and my laptop creating images in the darkness.

Did this last night and managed to get pretty far on the prologue. The brain's images are much more vivid in a dark room with little external stimulus. Also started writing on The Illuminators - rewriting a bit as the writing I did last fall rather sucked, even if the idea shines in the dark. So, here I go again. While you are asleep and dreaming, I'll be wide awake and committing my dreams to paper.

Having a rough time

2008-04-07T17:17:00.002-04:00

The depression is lingering this year, even with the warmer weather. I'm guessing that I get more physically active in the spring along with the warmer days - and with the severity of this hamstring injury I haven't been able to walk around or jog as I normally would.

The dullness of depression is taking its toll. I am worried about the book edits - worried I can't do them, will never make the grade, don't know my own writing enough to change it. I'm also freaking that my usually manic spring writing frenzy hasn't appeared. I sleep in later and later just trying to postpone having to get up to the monotony of the day.

I know I am lucky not to have a schedule I have to hop to - having all this time. But time can be a real enemy to a right brainer. My brain spins circles around itself and I start a million things in the day and at the end of the day realized I did nothing. I am a poor multi-tasker because I lose myself in one thing and totally lose track of what else I was doing (ask me sometime about the fountain I created out of the kitchen ceiling fan while attempting multi-tasking). I also have an intense attention span. Once triggered, I can get lost forever in what I am doing to the point of not even knowing there is a world outside of myself. Painting projects, home projects, writing projects - once the intensity is triggered I can do in days what would take another person weeks. And I don't do my best work at writing unless that intensity is triggered. Finding the trigger - now that is the puzzle. What makes me sit down and write 15 pages in an evening? What makes me do what I did today - sit and stare at the computer screen for three bloody hours while my imagination was AWOL? How can anyone understand me when I haven't a clue what makes me tick?

Of course, a week ago I couldn't even write this much in my blog - so I suppose the winter dam is unclogging in the river of my imagination.

Perhaps I need to set up a writing schedule that has both editing (and rewriting) The Sandsifters and writing on a second book (either The Illuminated or Sandsifter's sequel). Ugh, I can't make schedules! I never hold myself to them very well. Screw it all, I'm going to throw all my writing in the creek and go work at Krogers.

Enough politics

2008-03-03T13:23:00.002-05:00

I am done with all this shit. So much moaning and bitching about two candidates who are identical on policies except one is black and has an "inspirational" campaign slogan someone created for him and one is female and has more moderate campaign speeches created for her. No, these people did not create these campaigns themselves - their platforms were polled to an inch of their lives, then adjusted as the popular winds shifted. I know too much about the makings of a campaign to have the wool pulled over my eyes ever again. The inspiration or non inspiration of a campaign are just political tools to sway a mass-media induced nation. If either Democrat makes it to the White House, it'll be a change for good. An Obama White House will look exactly like a Hillary White House except for the penis. And it is all just another excuse for people to hate each other.

I've been sitting out in the swirly March winds, sitting on a fallen Sycamore tree over my bubbling brook that is swollen with the spring thaw. I was angry earlier, angry about human's tendency to follow any trend, to want to be on the winning side. Thank goodness for nature. An hour down there and my priorities are reset. My creek will flow year round without Obama or Clinton's permission. My trees will grow and bloom and fall unaffected by artificial changes and distinctions in a place far away from here. And I can live and grow in the same manner - voting my conscience, but not becoming entrenched in the lie that is politics. Voting who and what I believe, but understanding that others also have strong beliefs and meeting them in respect, not hatred. The more entrenched one becomes in one side or another of politics, the less flexible and less loving they become of the people they meet and live with everyday. I don't live in hatred, I don't live in spite, I don't have an unforgiving nature. Anger is a destructive, not a productive force in my life and I can and do choose another path.

Grandpa

2008-02-23T16:22:00.005-05:00

It's been a year. I had a dream the other night. Grandpa and I were sitting together, talking. He got up and started to walk away and I said "I'll see you again, won't I?" He turned and said "Death is forever, kiddo." I woke up and wrote this freeform poem.

Death is forever, kiddo, he said.
I'd just said I'll see you again, won't I?
And that was his response.
I remembered the creases around his eyes
His unsteadiness, the limp.
How much he needed us.
I didn't realize
That I needed him too.
And I wanted him to be there
Alive, when this dream ended.
I didn't want to have to ask
It was warm, comfortable, womblike.
No sadness, no sense of time fleeing.
Just him and I
Skipping generations to commune
As we tried to do in living time.
It had been a year since I saw him
And I wanted very much to keep
But he turned back as he walked away
Dashed my hopes with a crinkle of his eyes
Because Death is forever.

The Kennedys

2008-02-18T10:30:00.001-05:00

A cousin introduced us to the Kennedys a couple years ago, and occasionally they wander through the area and someone throws a house party which they play at. Some wonderful folk with a shot of hope and love thrown in. They've started playing with the Chris and Meredith Thompson who are also excellent folk singers and call themselves the Strangelings when they play together - mixing folk with pagan sounding music. Lovely stuff.

We had quite the cultural weekend - ballet on Saturday, Kennedys on Sunday. The ballet was a lovely surprise, with an expected suite by Twila Thorp to Sinatra, and an unexpected, very german, very modern dance called "Different Drummer" that was fascinating in its difference and its complexity. It is great to sample the cultural scene of Columbus and its surroundings.

The Strangelings...in concert

2008-02-18T10:23:00.001-05:00

Eyes ahead

2008-02-16T12:41:00.002-05:00

Excellent news on the lasik eye saga. Went in Monday and they did an eye scan which showed the dry eye is much better (which I could already tell) and even my corneas look better. And my eyes tested 20/25 in the right and 20/20 in the left. In order to see clearly the eyes have to have a good tear layer - otherwise the light refracts incorrectly and the vision is blurred. So clearing the dry eye sharpens the vision. Which means no enhancement surgery. Yeah! The right eye is still astigmatic, so it is never perfectly clear - but I can live with that if it means not peeling back the eye flap and sending me back to dry eye hell.

My eyes have been a bit dry the past couple of days because of that evil little device Mr. Ipsissimus got me for Valentines day: The Nintendo Wii. I also seemed to have strained a muscle in my left arm from playing the "sports pack." It is a blast though, and something to get me off the couch and moving in these cold, endless, cabin-fever days of winter.

Goals

2008-01-21T12:34:00.000-05:00

I told Brian these goals yesterday, so I might as well make them public knowledge:

I will have an edited novel ready to send to publishers by the end of summer. I will send it out whether I think it is ready or not otherwise it will never be sent out.

I will have half of The Illuminators finished by the end of summer.

What do these goals entail? Obviously revising and editing (or hiring someone to edit) my novel. Researching query letters and guidelines for the publishing houses I wish to submit to. Researching agents and sending queries to them. Ugh,that means selling myself and my work and I so hate that. I love the writing - but the whole finding a publisher thing makes my acid reflux bubble and burn.

But it is time to get my dreams back on track. Time to remember what I want to be when I grow up (do I have to grow up?). I'm sure I'll disappoint many people who were "counting" on me to do election stuff this year (I'm starting early - I just got my board of elections summons for March 5th - let 'em find someone who cares). I'd planned on getting everything done last year and having this year free for elections. That didn't happen. It is time for new people to come forward, as we did in 2004, and carry the load. I'm not convinced any more that we can do on a local level what those on the national level fail to do. People have to be convinced by the national campaign, by the candidate him or herself to vote for them. If they aren't convincing (like Kerry was not) we can spend hundreds of hours futilely knocking on door and get nowhere. And, as I learned too well last year, we don't have that kind of time to waste in our lives. Every minute is too valuable, too fleeting to squander on things that don't really matter and people who don't care.

It's all wrong

2008-01-14T12:47:00.000-05:00

I've been sitting staring at InDesign for about an hour. Everything I do looks terrible to me. I remember now why I don't write in the winter. I spend hours obsessing over on paragraph, one sentence - sometimes even one word (why, oh why could I not think of the perfect word?! I must be a terrible writer!). The confidence I have in the late spring to summer is gone. I feel disgust for everything I do. And even more disgust for the things I don't end up doing. A lose/lose situation.

I was always fortunate with the paying jobs I had. Printshop work is light in the winter, and usually very easy letterheads or ad set-ups. Much of the work I did in the winter was cutting and collating and generally grunt work in the bindery helping out the pressman. By springtime the work was back and so was my confidence. The worst jobs I ever had were ones that I accepted during the winter time, and come spring, realized just what an asshole the boss was and what crappy conditions I was working in. In the winter I just felt that it was no more that I deserved - but by spring I was outraged. They thought they were getting a grateful little stray kitten - but the kitten turned into a tiger with the coming of longer days and cut off the hand that abused it.

My mild-tempered husband is often baffled by this conundrum. In the winter I become solitary, unactive - unsocial, not wanting to go out with friends or leave the house much. Springtime comes and we are evenly matched - mildly active, getting out some, quiet contemplation sitting around some. Summer comes and I'm rarely sitting still - I'm dragging him off the couch to do some activity or another. I get irritated with him for slowing me down, for not doing more, for boring me when I want to go, go, go. Then autumn comes and I'm back on his pace again. I'm not quite as bad as I used to be, age is slowing me a bit and evening things out more. But my psychologist had to point out to me that it was not wholly Mr. Ipsissimus' fault that he couldn't keep up with my changing temperaments. Yes, he needed to learn to be more flexible - but I needed to learn a bit of patience as well and understand that he is a one-gear person while I am a three-speeder.

Ugh, I've been reading through my novels and I'm just ready to trash them. Sometimes I think they're great, but right now they just seem like unpublishable pulp. I'm ready to retire as desktop publisher as well, and give everyone I ever did design for money for inflicting my work on them. I think it would be a good idea to get out the sun lamp for, oh maybe several hours, see if I can get an attitude change going. 67 days until spring. January and February are the hardest.

This year is MINE

2008-01-07T21:24:00.000-05:00

2007 was everyone else's year. It was dedicated to family, helping those I love deal with death and dealing with death myself. It was taken by candidates I didn't really want to help and causes I didn't really care that much about. It was not for me, as circumstances were almost always out of my control and I rarely stood up for myself.

2008 is mine. I gave the rest of the world 2007. 2008 is mine. I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life. What interests me, what is my calling? You know, the question of "If you could do anything you want, without worrying about failure, what would it be?" The answer is still the same: I love to write. I love to create characters. I love to plot and plan and wander the worlds of my imagining. Graphic design is interesting, as is webdesign. But I'm not particularly dedicated to it. It is something I feel like I can't fail at, or if I do fail at it I don't particularly care. I don't want to fail at writing to the point where it is intimidating to me - and that tells me a lot. That tells me writing is really, really important. That tells me what I need to be dedicating my life to.

I've given to candidates pretty unconditionally the past four years. My help this year is conditional - it is on my terms. It is on my schedule and I will not be used as a last-minute emergency. I don't give a rat's ass that it is a presidential election year. We're going to have people coming out of the woodwork to help - great, let them do the work the way we did four years ago. I dislike politics just as much now as I did five years ago - familiarity has indeed bred contempt. Especially as I've gotten to know the people who become politicians. I've spent a lot of time thinking about what a friend proposed: going into business in the campaign management, messaging type field. But I dislike the people I'd have to work with. I dislike the messages I'd have to spread. I dislike the panic and the grueling autumn push to the end. Others thrive on such things - but the more I am involved the more I want out.

So I need to claim my time and claim my space and not let myself be used dry. It is good to be needed - I know that is why the campaign stuff is so addictive to me. It feels good to be wanted. After working alone and straggling around trying to figure out what I should be doing next, without any guidance or need for my writing from anyone around me - having a direct need that I can fill quickly and easily is addictive. Instant gratification. There is none of that in writing. None. A novel is never really done. It is never perfect, it is never exactly what my audience wants or needs. I have to resist the siren's call of instant gratification and focus on my long term goal of writing many novels and getting them published.

A New Year

2008-01-02T10:04:00.000-05:00

Here we are in Florida in the new year. It is 38 degrees here at 10am - starting the the coldest snap in five years. It will get down to 26 tonight. We are being accused of bringing the cold down from Ohio and I can't disagree.

It's been a bit dreadful down here. The MIL has a very set routine and it has flustered her to have us here and try to cook and converse with us. I was getting more and more irritated yesterday as it brought back memories of the summer. I helped grill dinner, but couldn't handle more than five minutes at the table with the two of them so I ate quickly and went into the bedroom. I was flopped motionless on the air mattress when Mr. Ipsissimus came in and flopped next to me. We talked for a bit, with me expressing my frustration. He started telling me how hard it was even for him and how depressed he was getting by the whole visit. He compared his mother(the snail) to mine (the perpetual motion woman) and talked about visits to my family being so dynamic, active and fun. He'd been thinking all day about how much my marriage to him has changed him - though he was never quite like his parents, he had their tendencies to let the world ebb and flow by around him without ever dipping more than a toe in. Marriage to me has pushed him more into the deeper waters and he finds he really likes it and grabs at life more. After we talked, things seemed more manageable. We were in this together finding ways of coping with his mom and that is a huge difference from three people at odds.

I think for me that is a huge thing to reflect on this new year. We've had a hellish year. No doubt about that. But Mr. Ipsissimus has become more because of it. No, he still doesn't clean regularly, or cook. But emotionally, he's grown and changed and become a true partner. He has learned the value of my emotional support and began returning that support, becoming a true partner. The little things fall away in the face of that united front. My best friend lives with me and I can hope for better years and better things with him beside me, supporting me.

2007-12-27T10:50:00.000-05:00

Here is my Christmas gift.

I'd hinted and hinted to Mr. Ipsissimus that I'd love to have one. He didn't get the hint. After a conversation just a week before Christmas and less than a week before we were leaving for Mom's I realized it just wasn't happening. But, with the help of a good friend nudging him in the right direction (without whom he would not have done it, he admits), he managed to surprise me by sending it to my Mother's house and having her wrap it and put it to the back of the tree where I wouldn't notice it until Christmas day. I think he was pretty proud of himself. And he was happily taking over my 2nd generation Nano and making it his own last night.

My Uncle and his family came down for Christmas and when we were talking my aunt said proudly, parroting the TV ad, "I'm not wearing it - but he got it from Jared's."
I smiled sweetly and answered, "I'm not wearing it - but he got it from Apple."

Since it's not supposed to snow...

2007-12-21T22:12:00.001-05:00

Thought I'd leave you with these very holiday seeming berries from the first snow we had this year.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-21T21:53:00.000-05:00

Well, the presents are wrapped, the car is loaded and the ingredients have been made into sweet treats. It must be time to go to the parents. We will leave early Saturday and my sister and her family will arrive late in the day. Then it is much ado and baking and seeing Santa at the mall until Christmas arrives. So here is where I wish everyone a very

Have a lovely time! We'll be back in town the day after Christmas.

2007-12-18T16:43:00.000-05:00

This is a watchful, waiting for the other shoe to drop, sort of year. It is difficult losing one or two people in a year, but losing four has us jumpy and worried. If the phone rings late in the evening, we look at each other. If Mom calls a second time in one day, I feel a tingle of fear before answering. My sister calls to get directions after I'd spoken to her earlier - and I see the number and feel dread. I've watched friends and family going through hell with their spouses and with each other and it adds to the sense of impermanence in my life. The one thing I did for myself this year, that I thought would bring convenience and joy to my life has become an unending nightmare of doctor's visits, headaches and reduced ability to enjoy the world around me.

My life is changing so much I don't know what to expect from month to month. I wonder what will be next - will we lose someone just as unexpected as my father-in-law and his sister were? Will it be the people I love or the pets I cherish? Will I ever again be able to do the work I love without headaches and terrible eyestrain? You really have no way of telling and it colors my Christmas in blues and purples instead of cheery reds and greens. I am going through the motions and it is not enjoyable - just survivable. I am still doing things for everyone else's convenience even though I am suffering with my own depression and pain and I wonder when it is that I'll start saying no and live my life for me. Perhaps that is a Christmas gift and New Year's resolution I need to give to myself.

2007-12-08T13:57:00.000-05:00

When did Christmas lose its fun? I used to enjoy it, finding the perfect gifts for people, decorating, picking out a tree and bringing it back to decorate. Now it is a shopping list of things I have to do, a two week period of enforced jolliness and trying to get along with people. Maybe if I had kids it would be different - I'd have someone who wanted the traditions, who dragged me along to everything they wanted to do rather than me dragging someone else along. It'll be nice to see the nieces when they come. My oldest niece is on edge of the believe in Santa era. If I lived closer to Mom, it might be a little different - I could go Christmas shopping with her and we could do trees at each others houses.

I guess it's just been a dismal year. I asked B. why it seemed everything had lost its fun and he didn't have an answer. Maybe next year will be brighter.

patterns

2007-11-25T19:36:00.001-05:00

Thanksgiving went better than expected - we simply avoided any mention of Grandpa and avoided as much as possible thinking about what we were missing. Sometimes the best thing to do with a wound is to not poke it - to just let it heal to the point that the pain is tolerable.

I am angry about a fight over the weekend. Or rather, that a fight was picked with me over the weekend so that someone else could get what they wanted and I could get the blame. It is a cycle that has been repeated over and over with myself as the scapegoat and I think it no longer has a place in my life. It is hard to step away from a family member, even one who constantly bring up painful memories and failings from childhood (always in the name of being "funny" of course). It is hard to break the patterns of childhood, hard to interrupt the vicious cycle when one person wants to keep it going. Sometimes it is simply better to sever the relationship with the person, not letting them get close enough to induce their poison. I am miserable and hurt and angry, even a day after the event. It is tied with the hero worship I had as a kid, I'm sure. It is time to step away from a relationship that has spiraled into pain for me whenever we meet. I hold hope that in the future there will be a place where we can meet as adults and learn new ways of enjoying each other.

The Holidays

2007-11-21T10:34:00.000-05:00

The holiday season is upon us and I wish it were not. I keep denying to myself that tomorrow is Thanksgiving - which is a problem since I still need to do some baking. There are more people missing around our dinner table, more evidence of the changes and shifts that families go through when loved ones die. This is from Grandpa's eulogy, posted in February after he died:

"Eat up girl, you're too thin," you'd say as you piled yet another helping on your plate at Thanksgiving. How could I eat up when I'd just been down in the basement "helping" you carve the turkey? You slipped me the best of the turkey whispering delightedly "Now don't tell your Grandma." We'd go upstairs and you would preside over the dinner table in your red flannel shirt, beaming with pleasure at the heaping platters and plates and urging everyone to eat as much as you did - though none of us could keep up.

And that has always been Thanksgiving to me. Dinner was at Grandma's, then at Mom's when Grandma could no longer cook for so many. Grandpa was always carving the bird and sneaking me the best pieces. Grandma would swat him. Aunt Nancy would sneak us candy. Then Grandpa'd pile a plate high, so that he was still eating long after the rest of us were done - but we'd stay at the table just to watch him go for seconds and then for dessert as he bantered and protested that we were too thin and needed to eat more. Now, in five short years, Grandma, Aunt Nancy and Grandpa are all dead. Brian's Mom is facing her first holiday alone.

I'd really just like to ignore the holidays this year. I guess my sister's arrival with the kids at Christmas will make it more festive and less like a big empty loss.

Feeling okay, but...

2007-11-15T10:33:00.000-05:00

The furnace is out again. Have a call in to the repairman but he hasn't called back. It just isn't coming on. I checked and there is plenty of oil in the tank and the breaker hasn't blown. There is a little red button on the furnace that says "press to reset" and I did so, but it hummed a bit and the button popped out again. Of course it happens on the first snowy day of the year. I am very ready to replace it with geothermal, which may be a headache on its own, but at least is a new original headache as opposed to the lingering oil headache.

Under the weather

2007-11-14T10:56:00.000-05:00

ugh, don't know what it is, but feeling icky. Felt totally wiped yesterday at massage day - couldn't keep up a conversation to save my life. Feel the same today - nothing major, nothing that can be pointed at as "sick". Just really achy all over, nasty headache, feeling wiped and a little nauseous. Needed to do stuff to day, but I think I'll just lay around like a bum. Hope I didn't pass anything on to people yesterday.